We're Both Looking For Something
by smc-27
Summary: Puck and Rachel, a series of firsts. Sophomore year, junior year, senior year and beyond. 4-parter
1. Sophomore Year

**A/N:** So this will be a four parter. It starts at the time when Puck joined glee club and will follow them through high school and beyond; the firs chapter is sophomore year, the second, junior, and the third, senior, etc. It's a bunch of firsts. A lot of this is from Puck's POV, some from Rachel's.

Hope you enjoy! Feedback is lovely.

* * *

The first time he actually talks to her, they're in practice, and she's blathering on about dance moves or something, and he's _trying_ to pay attention, really. But then there's Quinn and Santana, and he's distracted, so he runs into Finn, and Rachel rolls her eyes and tells them to start over from the chorus.

He's very aware that everyone's getting it but him. Rachel's pacing, and Mr. Schue is giving some special vocal attention to Tina and Brittany. Rachel steps in front of him, and he kind of punches her shoulder (he's used to being around dudes, so it's all he really knows).

"Hey," he says, and he scratches the back of his head when she faces him full on. "Is it two rights, then a left, or two lefts, then a right?"

She smiles, all teeth and glossed lips, demonstrates the move (he watches her legs for a couple reasons; maybe he kind of gets why Finn's so into this shit) and says, "Two rights, a left, and then another right."

He mumbles a thank you and she smiles and nods eagerly.

She might be fucking insane, but at least she's nice.

* * *

The first time he's really nice to her, he hands her a Big Gulp, watching how her face turns completely confused. She doesn't know what she's doing, actually letting him stand there with a full slushie in his hand. But his eyes look soft (she's never really noticed them before, since she's always so busy looking into someone else's) and he's got a straw extended to her.

Their fingers brush against one another's when he hands her the cup, and the smile she gives him almost makes him feel, like, _good_ and stuff.

* * *

The first time he kisses her, they're in her room, and her skirt is short, and he can see the outline of her bra beneath her white shirt, and she's looking at him all eager. She can't say she expected him to ask her if she wanted to make out, but she finds herself saying yes, because she does want to make out. With him.

She tries not to giggle when he grabs her and pulls her towards him and flips her over onto her back so she's pinned beneath him. He laughs a little when she grabs his tee shirt at his sides, and he moans when she sucks on his bottom lip a little bit. He had no clue she'd be this good at this.

He's more than a little surprised when she shifts, pushing him onto his back and straddling him. He doesn't know if she really means to grind against his lap, but it happens, and he likes it.

But she stops, because all she can see is Finn, and all she wants is Finn.

* * *

He sings to her for the first time, a song about a girl named Caroline, and he doesn't admit it (maybe she knows anyway) but the words actually really make sense.

He really _doesn't_ know when it began.

She smiles at him, and she swears her heart is beating a million times a minute, and her stomach is doing backflips. He's looking at her, only her, and she's so proud of him that all she can do is blink at him and sing the bah-bah-bah's when the time comes. The rest of the room laughs and dances in their seats, but she's too busy watching him.

He's a good guitar player. He's almost graceful in the way he moves, sauntering towards her a little bit. He's gorgeous (she doesn't deny it anymore). And his voice gives her goosebumps.

She's completely misjudged him. He smiles and kisses her when she tells him so.

(It's nice to not be a fuck up for once.)

* * *

They break up for the first time (they don't know it yet, but there'll be others; kinda) on the bleachers at school. She comes up to him, looking really good, he decides, in her dark sweater and knee highs, and he's thinking that maybe giving up football for glee wasn't a terrible choice, but he still misses the sport.

He lies when she asks him about it, out of habit alone.

She does most of the talking, which she's okay with, really (she expected nothing different) and she's completely surprised when he starts asking questions that, with anyone else, would be rhetorical. Puck wants answers. So she gives them.

It stings when he walks away, says they aren't friends and doesn't even look at her.

It's weird, but she feels closer to him now that they've broken up than she ever has.

They have more in common than she thought.

* * *

The first time he really _hears_ her sing, she's in this smack down (he refuses to call it a 'diva-off', because there's gay, and then there's _gay_, and he's neither) with Kurt for the lead on this song, one that Puck thinks is pretty lame no matter what.

But then there's Rachel, standing there, singing like her life depends on it, like she means every single word and has to sing them or something bad'll happen. He's watching her, and she's singing to an imaginary audience of a thousand people.

He's said it before. She can _sing_.

And if his throat gets tight when she hits that note Kurt missed, it's just because...

He sets his jaw when he realizes he doesn't have an excuse.

Her eyes meet his briefly afterward, and she bites her lip, because she doesn't know how, exactly he's looking at her, what expression is on his face as he claps, but she likes it.

He votes for her (everyone does) and he thinks that maybe her smile is worth it.

* * *

He realizes that they aren't so different, for the first time, really, when they're all paired off to do these stupid ballads.

There are two people in the room he wouldn't despise singing a ballad to.

(Ditto for Rachel.)

But Quinn and Artie are paired up (and okay, Puck can admit that them rehearsing that country tune I Run To You is both awesome and hilarious; you know, 'cause of that whole wheelchair thing.)

Rachel's shoulders don't fall (she has to make an effort) when Finn draws Kurt.

And Puck can also admit that he doesn't exactly _hate_ watching Rachel sing Endless Love.

He and Mercedes are basically like milk and vodka, two things that should never, _ever_ go together. (When he tells her so, she corrects him, "_Chocolate_ milk," she says, like she agrees on everything he's said except that.) They never do decide on a song, so he's happy they don't have to perform.

Lean On Me is kind of awesome, he supposes, and it's at least a little fun. Rachel sings to Finn, and she watches the way Puck sings to Quinn.

She catches his eye at one point.

He ignores her.

"We just did a good thing," she says to him quietly, both of them gathering their things. "Right?"

(The underlying feel of _please, please say yes_ buried in her words.)

He's never heard her be so unsure of anything. Maybe he's only known her for a couple months, but she's pretty much always annoyingly confident. Conceited, even. He knows, because people say the same thing about him.

"Probably," he says. He shrugs his shoulder and she smiles sadly. He thinks he does the same thing in return, but he can't really tell because he's never done it before.

* * *

Just once, she wishes she could hug him, because he looks like he needs it, and no one else will do it.

When everyone is looking at her like she's a horrible homewrecker who couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it, everyone's looking at him like he's a horrible homewrecker who doesn't care about anyone but himself. (She's not sure if both those things are true, or neither are, but she's leaning towards the latter.)

When their eyes meet in the hallway, there's an apology there, one for him and one for her.

She goes home and thinks about him (about all of them really, him, Finn and Quinn) and worries that no one will hear his side.

He goes home and thinks that if he were a better guy, he'd thank her. Maybe for a bunch of stuff.

* * *

She doesn't talk to him at all the day of Sectionals, but for the first time, when she looks at him, he's completely vulnerable to her. Finn has just saved the day, then blown Puck off, and Rachel's pretty sure that if there's a road back to that friendship, it's going to be a long one.

So she just looks at him, and he just looks at her, his eyes all sad and face mostly blank. She doesn't smile, doesn't wave. She just looks back at him, like maybe he knows what it's like when the person you love doesn't love you and you have no friends to speak of.

* * *

She knows, from listening to her fellow glee club members, what everyone does on the weekends. They all come to Monday morning practice, gushing about parties (Mike, Matt, Santana and Brittany), or shopping (Kurt and Mercedes) or epic movie marathons (Artie and Tina). Quinn's time is spent at Miss Pillsbury's condo, where she's taken over the spare room, just until she figures out what she's going to do. Finn got a job working with Kurt's dad, so that's been taking up most of his time.

Puck doesn't say anything, doesn't contribute to the conversation, and no one mentions him as part of their plans. He and Quinn go to lunch one Saturday, but Rachel hears that from Quinn, not Puck.

So when Friday rolls around and she hears the 'popular kids' talking about some party, and Puck is at the other end of the hall, pulling on his letterman jacket, Rachel thinks that maybe if she's going to be alone, and he's going to be alone, maybe they could at least be alone together.

She shows up on his doorstep and knocks before she can back out. She's surprised when he answers the door with an eight-year-old draped over one shoulder, and a smile on his face. He almost looks...happy. His smile fades, though, when he really registers that Rachel fucking Berry is standing on his doorstep. She's got a box of pizza in her hands, a six pack (really?) resting on top, and he doesn't know what the fuck is going on.

"Hi," she says.

"What the fuck is going on?" Puck asks. Okay, so he's not so subtle.

"Swear!" Rachel laughs at the little voice shouting something Rachel would like to shout, herself. She sees a little face, an upsidedown one, peer out from behind Puck. "Hi."

"This is Hannah," Puck says stupidly. He's still in a daze. "My sister."

"Oh," Rachel says, blinking at him. Her eyes are asking him why he never mentioned a sister. He hates that he can tell that.

"Who're you?" the little girl asks.

"I'm Rachel. I go to school with Pu...Noah," Rachel answers.

"Come in!" Hannah cries, seemingly okay with that answer.

"Shit. Yeah. Come in."

"Noah! _Swears_!" Hannah shouts again, and Rachel just laughs as he sets his sister on her feet. "You owe me a dollar."

"Yeah, yeah. You know I'm good for it," he says, messing the girl's hair. He knows Rachel's going to see him differently now, like he's some kind of good guy or something, which he's not. "Go up and put your pajamas on."

"But its only 6:30!"

"Do it," he says, and Hannah giggles and heads for the stairs when he takes a threatening step towards her.

Rachel thinks that the only one who isn't terrified of him is this little girl.

"You're a big brother," Rachel says when Puck turns to her again. He shrugs his shoulder and basically asks what the hell she's doing standing in his house. "I um..."

He blinks at her in shock for the second time in five minutes. "You just said um."

"Pardon me?"

"You said um. You never say um." He's smug as he points it out. She hates that she thinks his smirk is at least a little attractive.

"_Anyway_, my dads are away for the weekend, and I know you weren't planning on going to Dave Sherman's party. I figured your weekend routines would included pizza and beer, so I did my best. Of course, this is non-alcoholic, since not only am I underage, but I also would never, ever drink and drive. But anyway, this is just pepperoni. I hope that's okay."

She brushes past him before he has a real chance to respond, which is probably a good thing, because he's pretty sure that a girl showing up at his house with food and beer (okay, sort of beer) is just about the hottest thing he's ever had happen to him, even if it is Rachel Berry as the delivery girl. In her defense, her skirt is criminally short, so that kind of plays into the fantasy. Knee socks, too. Of course. Those don't hurt.

"So you just...came to my house. For no reason. On a Friday night." She's in his kitchen, and he's standing against the door frame, arms crossed as he watches her search through the cupboards for plates. "Nothing better to do?"

She turns to face him, eyebrow kinked, and puts her hand on her hip. "And your night is so exciting?"

_Well played, Berry,_ he thinks. "I'm babysitting. My mom's working," he says. So _there_. At least he has an excuse for staying home. Can't leave the brat unattended.

"Will Hanna want one slice, or two?" Rachel asks, flipping back the top of the pizza box.

"One," he answers robotically, though he's still completely stunned by the fact that _Rachel Berry_ is_ in his house_.

"I also brought a movie. It's in my bag. I figured you for an action movie type of person."

"I prefer my movies a little more X-rated."

"The Fast and the Furious?" she says, breezing past his comment. He notices a flash of colour in her cheeks anyway. "I've heard it's full of car chases and explosions. If you've seen it, we can watch something else."

Dammit. He has seen it. He owns it, actually. But it's also awesome, and there's something about Rachel right now, in his house, doling out slices of pizza onto three plates, her skirt swaying when she moves around the kitchen. Something that he thinks he likes.

And the words _Rachel_ and _like_ most certainly do not belong in the same sentence.

(It's hard to even think it anymore; he can't even convince himself.)

He'd ask her why she's here, but he already knows the answer, and as much as he'd love to be a dick about it, her taking an interest in him is probably nice and stuff, and it probably took a lot for her to get herself to do it.

She doesn't owe him anything. He owes a lot of people a lot of things.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he hears footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Princess ones!" Hanna announces, skipping into the kitchen.

Puck rolls his eyes. Leave it to his sister to ruin a perfectly good opportunity for him to say something, anything, to make Rachel squirm. (He may owe her now, but he's certainly not going to admit it.)

"Oh, I love those," Rachel says as she hands Hannah her plate. The little girl looks down at her pajamas, pink flannel with little tiaras and stars (fucking _stars_, Puck thinks; that'll forever bond these two chicks). "Pink is my favourite colour."

"Mine too!" Hannah looks at Puck, all wide-eyed, like Rachel is the coolest girl in the world or something, and Puck mocks her, though she's too young to realize that's what he's doing. "Noah, what's your favourite colour?"

"I dunno," he says, shrugging like this is the most annoying conversation he's ever been unwillingly pulled into (the number of annoying conversations he's been pulled into since joining glee club has increased radically.) "Blue, I guess."

He notices Rachel smiling as she passes him his plate. "Are we allowed to eat in the living room?" she asks.

Puck smirks as Hannah laughs. "We eat pretty much exclusively in the living room, Berry," he answers.

"Oh. Alright then. Sweetie, why don't you go get comfy?" Rachel says, steering Hannah back towards the other room.

Huh. Who knew? Rachel's good with kids.

"She's gonna expect me to be nice to her now," Puck says after biting into his slice. He normally wouldn't talk with his mouth full (his mother raised him better than that) but he knows it'll piss her off. Sure enough, she scrunches her face and sighs.

"Well, it didn't exactly look like you were torturing her when I showed up," Rachel says.

He wants to hate her. He wants _so badly_ to hate her.

She turns around and opens the cupboard where she saw glasses, but they're too high for her to reach flat footed. She gets up on her tip toes, and Puck cranes his neck to check out her legs and her ass and her..._her_...as she does it. When she turns around and sees him, her cheeks flare again. He expects her to look away, cover her face or just plain ignore him. But she just locks eyes with him. It makes him uncomfortable.

"You know, a gentleman would offer to help," she says curtly.

"Too bad I'm not one of those, huh?" She stares at him until he caves and walks towards her. He pulls a glass off the shelf and hands it to her, and when she opens a can of this non-alcoholic beer, his mouth gapes. "You're not...You don't put beer in a glass. Unless you're a chick. Or in a bar."

"Well, Noah, I happen to be a...woman. So it's perfectly acceptable," she argues. He's shaking his head, however.

"Nope. Not allowing it. My house, my rules."

"You're a child." He grins and she rolls her eyes. "Fine. I'll drink from the can."

She watches as he takes a can for himself, pops the tab and drinks a long sip. The muscles of his arm are tight underneath his shirt, and she wonders (you know, for professional reasons) how he's so tan all the time, even in the late fall. She finds herself thinking that even that absurd hairstyle can be attractive at times. This is one of those times.

And she never, ever thought she'd be the type, but she even finds it attractive when he finishes his beer in one fell swoop, then sets the empty can on the counter sharply.

"So listen, I'm gonna say this once, and you have exactly two seconds to laugh, and if you spend any more time than that, I'm going to be seriously pissed off," he says. She looks stunned. "What?"

"Nothing. I just don't think I've ever heard you string so many words together."

"Bullshit," he scoffs. "We had some good conversations when..."

She smiles and nods, then picks at the crust of her pizza. "Yeah, we did. Okay, so what am I not allowed to laugh at?" He holds up two fingers. "What am I allowed to laugh at for two seconds?"

"I sorta promised Hannah she could watch _The Little Mermaid_," he mumbles.

She literally beams (he'd always thought that was just a figure of speech) and grabs her drink and her plate. "I _love_ that movie!" she shouts as she runs from the room.

"Of course you do," he says, rolling his eyes as he follows her.

It's not unbearable, really. Hannah barely finishes her slice (she never eats the crusts, and she picks all the pepperoni off), and Rachel only eats two, so he has almost a whole pizza to himself, which is pretty awesome. He thinks it's pretty funny that she's sipping 'beer' from a can, watching a cartoon, her legs pulled up onto the sofa. Hanna sits between them, and the girls are giggling and talking about the movie, and Puck rolls his eyes only when they're paying attention to him, not the damn fish on the screen.

The girls sing along with the songs, and Hannah tells Rachel that she has the prettiest voice in the world. It's the one and only time Puck has ever seen Rachel actually humble about her talent.

And it's probably the one thing he's really ever agreed with his sister on.

Hannah's half passed out by the end of the movie, and Puck purposely ignores Rachel's eyes as he scoops his little sister into his arms and carries her up the stairs.

Rachel tidies up while he's upstairs. She places the plates in the dishwasher and snoops around for a recycle bin for the pizza box, and she's fluffing the couch cushions when Puck steps back into the living room. He laughs at her, because _what the fuck_? but she doesn't seem to care. He wonders if she's just used to him laughing at her, and how much of a dick that makes him if that's the case.

"You know, you're very good with her," Rachel says as he flops back down on the sofa.

He shrugs his shoulder. "She's my sister."

Rachel smiles and nods, but she thinks it's really, really sweet that there's this side of him that no one else sees. She assumes Finn has (_oh, Finn_, she thinks dreamily) and perhaps Quinn, but Puck is the 'badass' and no one else probably even knows that he _has_ a sister.

It's still early, just barely 8:30, so he starts 'their' movie (it's still really fucking weird that Rachel is sitting next to him on his couch on a Friday night, ready to settle into watching a movie with him). Rachel pulls a pillow onto her lap and toys with the corner of it, which for whatever reason, is very distracting to him. Probably just because he knows what those little hands feel like sneaking under his tee shirt, and he hasn't gotten any in a while. Yeah. That's it.

He smirks when she gasps or flinches during races and crashes. But they don't say a word to one another for the duration of the movie. Not a word. There's a foot of space between them on the sofa and they've each polished off a couple non-alcoholic beers (as lame as it is, Puck thinks it's kind of cool that she thought to bring them).

The credits roll and Puck stands, stretching his arms over his head. He catches her staring at his stomach when his shirt rides up, but for some reason, he doesn't mention anything about it.

"I must admit, that wasn't the worst movie I've ever seen," she says. He rolls his eyes. "I assumed it would include only terrible dialogue and unnecessary violence, but it was much more than that. And the love story was very sweet."

"And the chicks are hot."

Rachel shakes her head as she stands and smoothes out her skirt. "The women were attractive, yes." He cocks his brow and stares at her with a boyish smirk on his face. "What?"

"You just admitted..."

"Oh, don't be so juvenile. I'm confident enough in my sexuality to be able to admit when another women is attractive."

She's standing there with her arms crossed, her hair falling over one shoulder, and her weight resting on one leg. And she just said the word 'sexuality'. This girl keeps surprising him.

"Whatever," he says. (He's changing the subject, but he's sure this isn't the last time he'll think of this moment.)

"I should be going," she announces. It unnerves her that sometimes she can read him like a book, and sometimes she has no idea what he's thinking. "It's getting late."

"It's not even 11:00."

He doesn't know what he means by that. He doesn't want her to stay. But he doesn't want her to go, either.

"I have ballet on Saturday mornings," she explains. He looks surprised again. "I've been dancing since I was a baby." He furrows his brow. He's not even sure how that's possible. "Thank you for your hospitality, Noah. I had a nice time."

He lets out some indeterminable grunt as she slips her jacket on and heads for the door. She smiles before she leaves.

The first and only time Rachel is ever in his house, Puck realizes that she's fucking _insane_, but she's also kind of sweet, when she's not acting crazy. He knows it was fueled by some kind of pity, her reaching out to him, but the fact that he had an alright time erases the anger he should feel.

And when he's laying in bed that night, he wonders what 16 years of ballet might do for a girl's flexibility.

* * *

Finn and Rachel finally get together, to the surprise of absolutely no one. He makes this really cute, bumbling speech and ends every sentence with "and stuff" and Rachel just smiles at him and bites the inside of her cheek because she's so close to screaming from happiness. She throws her arms around his neck and he catches her, laughing at her a little bit (deja vu) and then she kisses him, right there in the doorway of her house, where they've been standing for five minutes.

So they hold hands all. the. time. And Rachel's always (_always_) smiling, and Finn looks happier than maybe he ever has. Everyone's happy for them, claiming they've seen it coming for ages. Puck mumbles a sarcastic congratulations, but even he can admit that they're good together.

When Quinn walks up to him in the hallway one day looking nervous, he wonders what he's done this time. She just shrugs her shoulder and asks him if he still wants to be with her, and he swears that he's speechless. He nods and she smiles, and days later, when he asks her why the sudden change of heart, she simply says that if Finn and Rachel can get it together, then so can they. Puck supposes that's a good enough answer. And he likes the way she kisses him after and mumbles something against his lips about really, really just wanting him, too.

He and Rachel share a smile in the hallway once when the two couples pass one another, the girls holding their boyfriends' hands.

And there's a part of her, no matter how small it is, that is happy that Puck was her first real boyfriend.

(The rest of her wants Finn to have all her firsts.)

* * *

Finn's too stupid to notice, but Puck thinks hell must be frozen over, because it's clear that the girls have worked together to come up with this plan. Evil geniuses.

He should have known it when Quinn suggested this place. A seedy karaoke bar really isn't her style, and she's 7 months pregnant, so their dates have been pretty much limited to whatever food she's craving and trying to find a movie to watch in his living room that won't make her bawl her eyes out. (So far, they haven't found one.)

She's still living with Miss P. (as Puck calls her), and Quinn admits that it's a little weird when Mr. Schue comes over for 'dates' and stuff. So she tells Puck that she wants to get out of the house, and he's pretty much adopted the 'whatever Quinn wants, Quinn gets' mentality, so he agrees.

Karaoke, though? Red flag for sure.

When they walk in and he sees Finn and Rachel sitting at a table for four, talking to one another (Finn says something that makes Rachel lean over and kiss him), Puck turns to Quinn and glares, and she tightens her hold on his hand.

"It's time to make an effort," she tells him in her _'I'm still head bitch in charge, don't question me' _voice. He's a little scared of that voice.

He begrudgingly follows her towards the table, and he notices Finn's expression harden as Rachel makes a show of acting like this is all some big coincidence. Puck wonders if she's a terrible actress, or if he's just better at seeing through her than her own boyfriend. He thinks it has to be the latter.

They order cokes and a bunch of food, and the girls talk to one another, and Quinn talks to Finn, and Rachel talks to Puck, but Finn and Puck don't talk to one another.

The boys sit awkwardly at the table and watch as the girls get up on stage, but Puck looks at Finn as if to ask if the girls are really friends or not. It sure looks like it. He wonders how much time they've spent talking without he or Finn knowing. Sneaky.

They sing that annoying pop song The Boy Is Mine, and they're both laughing hysterically (okay, so Puck can kind of get the joke behind that) when the crowd claps and shouts and cat calls them. Finn looks at Puck and they're both smiling.

Until Rachel and Quinn return and then the guys' names are called, and then the shit hits the fan, because what the _fuck_ are they trying to do? Puck's life is not a fucking musical, thanks anyway.

"I'm not getting up there," Puck says defiantly, crossing his arms. Quinn looks at him, smiles and bats her lashes. "Nice try, babe. But no."

"Yeah, Rachel. This is...no. I'm not doing it," Finn says.

Even Puck is terrified with the withering glance Rachel gives her boyfriend. "Finn Hudson, I know you are not afraid to perform. So march your perfect ass up those stairs and grab a microphone. Or else!"

Puck notes a few things. Rachel just said the word _ass_. She's a tyrant. There's a threat there that he's desperate to know more about (what exactly do Finn and Rachel _do_ together?). And also, Finn is _totally_ whipped, because he kisses Rachel's cheek, sighs, and stands up.

"C'mon, dude. Let's just do this," he says.

Those are the first words they've spoken to one another in weeks. Certainly, they're the first ones that mean anything at all.

Puck glares at the two evil women when he gets on stage and sees them high fiving across the table before they start clapping and cheering like crazy people. (He's not so sure they aren't, at this point.)

Puck wonders what the hell Finn's told Rachel about their friendship, because More Than A Feeling starts playing, and the guys just look at one another. It's the song they always used to play real loud as they sipped beer after games, and the one they listened to on repeat when they took a four hour road trip the day Puck got his license. It's kind of their song, as lame as that is.

But they start singing, and about half way through, they look at one another and smile, and Puck thinks that even though this is stupid and he may have to kill his girlfriend for it, he might be getting his friendship back.

It doesn't hurt that the two girls are absolutely _swooning_ right now, so he's fairly certain this is going to work out pretty well for him.

They get off the stage, bumping fists and laughing with one another, and when Finn gets up to go to the washroom and Quinn is paying more attention to her milkshake than anything else, Puck looks across the table at Rachel and mouths the words, "you win."

At the end of the night, after they've all sung with one another and the place is practically empty, just a half hour from closing time, Rachel catches Puck off guard with the first hug they've shared since they broke up.

"Of course, I win," she says softy.

* * *

Vocal Adrenaline absolutely kicks their asses at Regionals. No one really wants to admit that. And besides, it's all a little suspect to Puck; he saw the way the judges turned a blind eye to a couple of Carmel's missed steps and weak notes.

Rachel's doing that thing where she's trying to act all professional and pretend she isn't about to cry, and Finn's comforting her, saying things like _next year, we'll take it_, and _but you were so amazing anyway_. Quinn is laying on her side on the couch in the dressing room, her hand draped over her stomach with her eyes closed. Puck thinks it's pretty amazing that his girl isn't freaking out like that other one.

She sleeps all the way home, her head resting on his shoulder, and Rachel sits next to Mr. Schue and tells him all the things they need to work on for next year, song selections and perhaps recruiting more members and hiring a (not as crazy as Dakota Stanley) choreographer.

When they get back to the school, Puck helps Quinn into Miss P's car, then sees Rachel talking with Finn, Finn's mom, and her dads. She looks animated, like she's about to lose it any second. One of her dads has his hand on her shoulder, and Finn's rubbing circles on her back, and Finn's mom is shaking her head, probably telling Rachel how unfair the whole thing is.

Puck doesn't know when he became the kind of guy who feels the need to placate this seriously crazy chick, but he figures all this ranting isn't good for her vocal chords, and he does need her to be able to sing.

So he saunters over, his hands tucked into his pockets and his tie hanging loose around his neck. "Hey, Rachel," he says.

He rarely ever calls her that. She and Finn notice and exchange glances. "Yes, Noah?" she asks curtly.

If there weren't three parents around, he'd call her on being such a bitch when he's clearly not deserving.

(He really wishes he didn't have an audience for this.)

"Just wanted to say that you were really great today," he says. She looks shocked. She shouldn't be, she realizes, because yes, she was great, so why don't they have a trophy and a trip to Nationals right now? "We deserved to win."

She turns around quickly to look at her dads. "See!" she shouts, pointing to Puck. "Even _he_ knows it!"

"Rachel, honey, calm down," her dad says quietly.

"Those Vocal Adrenaline geeks had the judges in their back pockets," Puck continues.

"Exactly!" She looks up at Finn, who looks like he's not sure whether to thank Puck or ask what the hell's going on, here. "Next year, I'm going to see to it that this doesn't happen again. Lucky for us, I have the email address of the director of the Ohio Show Choir Association, and I will not _rest_ until new, unbiased judges are chosen!"

Finn's mom is trying not to laugh, and her dads are shaking their heads. Finn is definitely scared of her when she gets like this. Puck thinks it's _hilarious_.

"Right on, Rach," he says. "See you guys later."

And so Puck encourages her for the first time, and she shows up to practice on Monday with a homemade cake for the group. The icing is blue (his favourite colour, and he wonders if she remembered that).

She gives him the first piece. (Extra icing, too.)

* * *

Quinn goes into labour two days early, during spring break.

Labour is awful for both Puck and Quinn, because he's learned that those birthing classes? Those things only make you think you know what you're doing. He still has no fucking clue. He just does what people tell him, Quinn especially. At the 10 hour mark, they're told the baby is breech, and Puck asks what that means again, because in his sleep deprived, scared-out-of-his-mind state, he's forgotten basically every word he read in all those books.

Quinn's crying, clutching his hand and practically begging him to do something, but he doesn't know what to do, so he just sits there, letting her cry. He gets as close to the bed as he can and lets her rest against him.

It doesn't help that there are two other people, relative strangers, standing in the room, worried about their daughter. (Puck doesn't even know who he's talking to when he thinks 'their'. All of them, he supposes.)

They end up not being able to give Quinn an epidural, something about needing her to have 'full control' or something? All Puck knows is that she's screaming with every contraction, and he absolutely hates this. Hates every fucking second.

18 hours later, he's clenching his teeth and holding back tears as he hears his daughter crying, sees the people who'll be taking her home crying, and feels Quinn let go of his hand for the first time in what feels like hours.

Quinn holds the baby first, and Puck doesn't care if he's got tears running down his face, because this little girl looks like him, and the way Quinn looks at him lets him know that she sees it too. He doesn't really hear the things Quinn is saying to the baby, because he's too busy wishing he hadn't screwed up so bad, that maybe if they were just a couple years older things could be different, better.

So he holds his daughter for the first and last time.

Her 'real' parents say that they're naming her Elizabeth (Quinn's middle name) and Puck approves, though he realizes quickly that he really doesn't have any say in the matter, does he?

Once Quinn's settled for the night, Mr. Schue and Miss P. in her room to sit with her, Puck is told that he should go home and get some sleep.

He stops by the nursery and looks at his baby girl through the glass, and he does the one thing he's been trying not to do for two months now; he tries not to think about how much he doesn't want to give her up, how Quinn practically made the decision and he's been going along with it.

And right now, he fucking hates her for doing this to him. (He technically did it to her, too, but he's not going to pay attention to that.)

He's got a mickey of JD stowed away in his truck, and he figures that there's no better time than right now to drink as much of it as he can. It's not like he'll be able to sleep or anything anyway.

So like the pathetic loser that he thinks he is most of the time, he sits on the bleachers at the school, looking out at the 50 yard line, trying to tell himself that it's for the best. It's all for the best. That he wouldn't have picked a prettier name (Sophia) and he wouldn't love her more than anyone in the world could. That he wouldn't do absolutely anything for her, and that he'd give anything for her to know that he loves her already.

He loves her, and he'll never be able to tell her.

He ends up at Rachel Berry's house, his truck parked in the driveway (it's not until he's standing beside it that he realizes how stupid it was for him to drive). He knocks on the door, probably far too loudly, since it's after midnight on a Tuesday and her dads both work.

He doesn't even know why he's here. He just knows that she's the one person who's never really judged him, not about the baby, and she's the only person he wants to see.

She answers the door wearing star and moon pajama pants and a long sleeved tee shirt, her hair in a ponytail and a surprised look on her face. Her dad, the bigger of the two dads, is standing right behind her looking confused.

"Noah," she breathes out.

He knows that she knows.

"Daddy, it's okay," she says. He looks at her skeptically. "I promise."

Even in so few words, her voice is soothing to him. Her dad walks away, back up the stairs, and Rachel gestures to the sofa. She can tell Puck has been drinking, and while she really wishes he hadn't, she can't say she blames him. She doesn't know how long he's been awake, but his eyes are red and he looks like he's just had the worst day in his entire life.

Finn is visiting his aunt and uncle in Cleveland for the weekend.

She should push Puck away when he grabs her (a little harshly, and it almost scares her) and hugs her the way he probably needs to be hugged. She's pressed right up against him, her head against his chest, and she tentatively wraps her arms around his waist. She has a hard time keeping it together when she feels a tear drop onto the top of her head.

She eventually gets him to sit down, and while he's never been much of a talker, she insists that he tell her everything.

(This is why he came. He needs to tell someone everything, and no one else would want to hear it all, every last thing.)

It's nearly three in the morning by the time he appears to be out of words, and he wipes at his eyes angrily. Rachel has hardly said a thing, and at some point, her hand ended up holding onto his, her fingers curled around his, and there's a cup of water in his other hand. He doesn't remember her getting up to get that for him.

"I'm so sorry, Noah," she says quietly, looking down to her lap and shaking her head. "This must be so awful for you."

He looks at her for a moment, blinks, not caring that it sends more tears down his cheeks (he'd be pissed at himself if he didn't know that she doesn't care if he acts like this) and he moves closer to her. No one else gets it. No one else understands it this way. Everyone's been fawning over Quinn, and yeah, she deserves it, but he's a part of this too, and for whatever reason this girl, this crazy girl who he doesn't even know how to classify in the categories of people he knows, is the only one who sees that this is just as hard for him.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him against her, his head resting on her shoulder, face buried against her neck.

He falls asleep like that, but not before muttering, "We're just giving her away, Rach. She's our daughter, and we're giving her away."

Rachel cries, not a fake tear among any of them, when she knows he's not waking up, and she gently lays him down so that his head is resting on her lap.

Her dads don't say anything the next day when they walk into their living room and see their daughter, wide awake with a boy who isn't her boyfriend sleeping so close to her.

They make breakfast, and Puck wakes up when he smells bacon. Rachel's hand is kind of massaging his scalp and he wonders why she doesn't hate him. Everyone else seems to.

Her dads serve up breakfast and Rachel delicately tells the story of what had Noah (he doesn't even hate that they're all calling him by his first name) coming over so late at night, and he's not annoyed by the sympathetic looks they give him.

"You're doing the right thing," Brian, the little one with the glasses says.

Puck believes it for the first time. Maybe it's the way Rachel smiles at him, like she's in agreement of the fact.

He thanks them for breakfast as they make their way to the door, and they tell Rachel to behave herself, and it's all a joke, and Puck smiles for the first time in three days.

As soon as they're alone in the house, Puck sticks his hands in his pockets and looks to the ground. "You wanna see her?"

She smiles and nods, changes into a pair of jeans and pulls on a sweatshirt before they leave the house.

They stand in front of the glass looking at the tiny little baby sleeping, bundled in a pink blanket.

"Noah, she's beautiful," Rachel says quietly, her hand pressed to her heart. "She looks just like you."

He's sure there's a compliment in there somewhere, and if he wasn't feeling like...well, the worst he's ever felt, he'd call her on it.

And then Finn starts walking down the hall towards them, and Rachel's face kind of lights up because he wasn't due back until Saturday. She doesn't care that he hugs Puck first, and she just watches the little baby sleep while the boys talk and Finn explains that Rachel called him and told him Quinn had the baby. What goes unsaid is that maybe Rachel knew Puck needed his best friend. She didn't tell him to come. She loves that Finn understands her subtext, understands her.

Puck announces that he should go see Quinn, because he feels weird playing third wheel with Rachel and Finn (he always has, but even more so now, maybe because he slept so close to Rachel and she's been so good to him, and he doesn't think he deserves it).

Finn wraps his arms around Rachel's shoulders as he stands behind her, and her hands come to rest on his forearms as he leans down so his chin is resting on top of her head.

"She's cute," he says, looking at the baby.

"She's perfect," Rachel insists.

"It's weird," he says quietly. "We're never going to know her."

Rachel bites back tears and turns in his arms.

This is the first baby any of them has. And they're just giving her away.

* * *

Puck and Quinn break up about a month after the birth of their daughter. Puck can't get over the fact that they've given up something that he thinks they should have tried harder to hang onto, and she can't get over the fact that he's the one who made it all happen in the first place. They try to forgive each other, but she's having a hard time as it is, and he isn't helping. So they split and promise to stay friends, and it works pretty well that way. They're not braiding one anothers' hair or anything, but they're civil and they can work together in rehearsals, and even laugh together every once in a while.

Rachel doesn't know many of the finer details, but she doesn't ask questions. Neither does Finn (he and Puck talk, but that stays between them, and Rachel is fine with that).

That's not why she and Finn start fighting.

They've been together for months, and they've been a stable couple, communicating well, laughing, spending time together, doing everything together. They slept together just two months in, both so sure of it that no questions needed to be asked.

She and Finn start fighting because he gets accepted to a football workshop for the summer, and he registers before telling her anything about it.

The blow up happens in the middle of a rehearsal, when the littlest thing sets her off.

Their rehearsals now are mostly just for fun, since their next competition won't be until the fall. They all want to improve, and so three times a week, they meet in the choir room and go over old numbers and new ones, picking apart their 'weaknesses'.

Right now, _Finn_ is the weakness. Rachel does nothing but make it known.

They're working on With A Little Help From My Friends, and Finn just can't get it right. His harmonies, his dance steps, nothing.

His mind is in a whole other place (his girlfriend is pissed at him, so he thinks he's got a good enough excuse).

"Finn!" she shouts, stopping in her tracks after he almost steps on her foot. _Again_.

"I'm sorry," he says. The way he's looking at her lets her know that he's apologizing for a bunch of things. She believes him, but she still hates that he didn't even consider her feelings before signing up to be away from her for six weeks. Alabama isn't exactly close enough to visit. (She nearly took his head off when he suggested it.)

"_Sorry_ isn't going to repair a broken toe!" she cries.

Puck is the only one who laughs.

"Okay, okay," Mr. Schue says, holding up his hands. "Why don't we take a break? You two can...talk."

Rachel gives him that death glare of hers and puts her hand on her hip. "I don't need a break, and I have _nothing_ to say to him."

"Well then, _I _need a break, and _I'll_ talk to him," Mr. Schue says. He pulls out the authoritative voice and Rachel huffs and rolls her eyes before storming out of the room.

Everyone else is still under the spell of all the tension in the room, and Finn puts his hands on his hips and hangs his head. Eventually, everyone starts talking among themselves, and Kurt heads to his locker for Evian. Mercedes is texting someone and Artie and Quinn are talking.

Puck slips out of the room after Mr. Schue and Finn do, and he walks down the hall where he thinks he might be able to find Rachel.

He notices the stage door to the auditorium is open, so he walks in and sees her standing front and center, her hands at her sides, staring out at nothing.

So he heckles her. Naturally.

"Sing something, or get off the stage!" he calls out from behind her, cupping his hands over his face.

She spins around and she's smiling, so he thinks that's a good thing. She runs her hands over her face and he sticks his in his pockets as he approaches her.

"I'm being a total bitch, aren't I?" she asks.

He cocks his brow and grins at her. "You said the B word," he teases childishly. "And yeah, you are."

"I'm just so..._mad_ at him," she admits.

She has no idea when she and Noah became one another's confidantes. It defies all logic.

"Well, maybe you should chill," he suggests. She sends him a withering glance and he shrugs. "This camp is a big deal. Only 50 guys from across the country get invited."

"Why does one of those guys have to be _my_ boyfriend?" she asks. He laughs again and she lets out this frustrated growling sound. "I'm happy for him. I am. I just wish he had told me, so I could prepare."

"Prepare?"

"You know, so I wouldn't have gotten the information all at once. It's hard enough being the loser dating Finn Hudson. I don't need him to be away for six weeks, where he has the opportunity to meet someone better than me. There are a million girls out there who are more beautiful, more popular, more talented. Well, maybe not more talented, but...I just don't want him to...to forget about me."

He scoffs and shakes his head. She's even more insane than he thought. (There's a voice, way, _way_ at the back of his mind, that asks if someone better than her even exists.)

"Berry, you're not a loser. Not anymore, anyway," he says. She rolls her eyes; that's not the point here. "And you may talk too much and act like a total bitch sometimes, and maybe you could dial back the crazy just a little bit, like, 90 per cent of the time, but...You're hot, and Finn's into you."

"Into me," she mumbles. (But she's always liked it when Noah calls her hot.) "Yeah, that's great."

"Isn't it?" he asks, completely confused as to how that's a bad thing. "Why're you getting all psycho over this?"

"Because I love him!" she shouts.

"What?"

Puck and Rachel turn toward the voice and see Finn standing there, looking surprised and confused, and all Rachel can think is _Oh my god, how long has he been standing there? _He steps a little closer, so he's standing next to Puck in front of Rachel, and she closes her eyes tightly.

When she opens them, they're both still standing there, and this isn't some insane dream, so she steps forward and slips her hands into Finn's.

"I love you," she says, looking up at him. She thinks she might start to cry or something, which would do nothing to make this whole thing less embarrassing.

A little smile creeps to Finn's face and he pulls her closer. "I love you, too."

And that's how Noah Puckerman is witness to Rachel and Finn's first I love you.

He uses the fact that it's a Friday night to drown in cheap beer at the 50 yard line of the football field again, because why in the _fuck_ does he care so much?

* * *

_tbc..._


	2. Junior Year

His pool cleaning business picks up as soon as school's out (a little beforehand too, but he doesn't tell his mom, because she insists that he needs to focus on his finals, not PH levels). He works almost every day, under scorching sun, and this year, the women seem desperate and trashy, not willing and attractive.

Huh. Maybe he's growing.

Rachel has a pool. Her dad (Mark, the big one she refers to as daddy) catches up with him one day when he's working across the street and asks if he's taking on new business. He says yes, because frankly, there's no such thing as too much money.

He schedules to stop by the next day. (Yeah, schedules. Writing it down and everything. Berry'd be proud.) The only time he has available is at the end of the day, so he drives over around 3:30 and walks around to the back of the house with his equipment.

He does not expect to see Rachel, laying on a lounge chair in the tiniest red bikini known to man, listening to her iPod. Who knew all that was under those ridiculous skirts of hers? He takes a second to look at her, her skin all tan (and _tight_) and one knee bent. He tries not to stare at her chest, but it's impossible (come on, it's _right there_). Her hair is held back by a red headband, and she's wiggling her toes in time with the music.

Maybe it's the lack of clothing (definitely is) but he's never seen her look sexier. (Surprisingly, this is something he's thought before, too.)

He walks over and sets down his things, but she still hasn't heard him, so he reaches down and grabs onto her foot.

He laughs when she practically jumps out of her chair.

"Puck!" she shouts.

(So now she's yelling his name. That doesn't help this..._feeling_ he has.)

"'Sup?"

"What are you doing here? And why aren't you wearing a shirt?" she asks, eyeing his torso.

"I'm cleaning your pool, and it's a billion degrees out," he explains. He thinks it should be pretty obvious.

"Oh. I didn't know, or I would have..."

"Put some clothes on?" he suggests. He looks her up and down for good measure.

"I'll thank you not to leer at me," she says, putting her hand on her hip. She reaches for her towel and wraps it around her waist. "I'll get out of your way."

"You're not in my way," he tells her. She's heading for the door, walking past him, and he hooks his arm around her waist to stop her. (How does she get her skin so _smooth_?) "Stay out here. Relax. You can keep me company."

She contemplates it for a moment, then walks back over to her chair and lays down again. They talk a little while he works, and she gets up at one point to get them both lemonade. She brings out an iPod dock and they agree on a playlist of hers that's mostly top 40 pop stuff, but it's better than show tunes.

Some Wednesdays, she's inside, and he can see her talking on the phone or singing or playing piano. Sometimes she lays out in the sun and listens to music while he works. They rarely talk, but he doesn't mind. He learns that all her bikinis are as tiny as that first one. Never does he complain.

* * *

It's the middle of August, and she's on his doorstep, really hoping that he's home and willing to let her talk his ear off, because that's what she's in the mood to do, only maybe not, because she's kind of been a zombie for the last couple hours and all she wants to do is forget this day ever happened or possibly go back in time and change everything, but she can't, so she's here, and she thinks that maybe Noah will get it, and if not, he'll at least pretend, because he either doesn't care or doesn't want to make it seem like he cares.

Oh, and she's had four iced coffees since she hung up the phone two hours ago.

He answers the door in just a pair of boxer shorts. She doesn't know if she's blushing or if it's just the caffeine, but her face feels hot.

He's looking at her funny. "What's with you?" he asks.

She looks down at her clothes, a pair of denim cutoffs that she wears only in the house, and a plain white v-neck tee shirt that's a little loose on her. Her hair is a mess, she knows, because she braided it in the morning, and a lot has happened since then.

"We broke up," she says.

He just blinks at her. She doesn't look like she's been crying. Not at all. She's freakishly calm, even for a normal day. Her and Hudson breaking up does _not_ make this a normal day.

"Fuck."

"Put clothes on. I'll wait here," she says, plopping herself down on his front step.

He just looks down at her for a moment, and she pulls her knees up to her chest. He'd hug her or something, but he's pretty sure she might break or freak out at him. As he's pulling on a pair of board shorts and a white tee shirt, he's wondering why she isn't broken already.

When he steps outside, she's already sitting in his truck, her phone in her hand, and he wonders what the fuck she needs him to do. Maybe they've only seen one another once a week or so throughout the summer, but that's just about as much as he's seen anyone. He and Artie try to catch local AAA baseball games (who knew the kid was into sports?) and Kurt sometimes tags along (Puck doesn't question his motives). He's seen Mercedes once or twice, and Tina lives in his neighbourhood. He hangs out with Matt and Mike often, and Brittany, Santana and Quinn are always at the parties he's at. For whatever reason, his hour in Berry's backyard sometimes feels more important than any of that.

He'll blame it on the bikinis.

But as much as they 'hang out' and talk sometimes about stuff, usually Finn or music and stuff, he has no idea how to help her, if that's even what she wants.

He kind of looks at her when he gets into the truck, and she'd like to ask just what he thinks he's staring at, but she's sure he's expecting her to be crying, screaming or asking a whole bunch of questions. She doesn't feel like doing any of that. She feels numb.

"Babe, you're gonna have to tell me what you want here," he says.

Her eyes snap over to look at him. "Don't call me babe."

The corner of his lip curls upward and he turns the key in the ignition. "Glad you're in there somewhere."

He starts driving through his neighbourhood towards downtown, but he doesn't know what, exactly, she needs from him. So he just drives. The classic rock station is playing that cheesy late-night call-in request show, and she doesn't even shed a tear when a woman calls and talks about what song was playing the moment she signed her divorce papers. And she doesn't yell at him when he rolls his eyes.

She's freaking him the hell out.

They've been driving for nearly 40 minutes when she finally speaks again. And he was just getting used to the silence.

"Pull over here," she says, pointing to a 7-11 parking lot.

He does as he's told, mostly because he's terrified of this alien version of her and what it might do to him if he resists.

"Now what?" he asks when his truck is in park.

"Get beer."

He laughs softly and smiles, and when he looks at her, her pretty eyes are devoid of any noticeable emotion. Freaky.

He gets out of the truck with his fake ID in hand, and she bites her lip, not to keep from crying, but smiling. This is why she sought him out. She could have gone to anyone. Her summer has been actually pretty fun, hanging out with the other glee kids. She's even gone to a couple parties. She and Quinn go shopping, which makes her wonder if the world is still on its axis, it's such a weird thing. She's taken little trips with her dad; to Cleveland to see a play she's been dying to see; to Chicago for an amazing shopping weekend; to St. Louis for a baseball game.

And she's talked to Finn every day, at least once, on the phone. He sent her his workout schedule so she'd know when he was available, and she let him call her, more often than not. It was easier for her to drop what she was doing (which, usually when he called, wasn't much) and talk, than for him to. She knows all the details of his camp. She knows about his roommate and his coaches and the guys he hangs out with. The long distance thing hasn't been as hard as she thought.

Until two weeks ago, that is, when things started to unravel. He didn't call her one day, and when she called him, it went straight to voicemail. No big deal. This went on for three days. Not a text, email or voicemail from him telling her that he was okay or anything. But she had too much pride to grill him about it, and the next time they spoke, he told her they'd been running two-a-days and he'd been too tired to talk. Understandable.

When she called him one night and heard a girl distinctly call him _Finnie_ and tell him to hurry up, that she didn't want to miss the party, Rachel was less than impressed. Since when do girls go to football camp?

Apparently, there was a cheerleading camp at the same university where his was being held. He'd failed to mention that part. And that since the girls showed up two weeks ago, there'd been weekly parties that they all went to.

She still doesn't really know how they went from her asking if there was something going on, to him telling her he needed a break. She has _no idea_ how that conversation went the way it did.

Did she honestly think he was cheating? No. Not _really_. But a confirmation would have been nice. She didn't get one. Instead, they broke up and now he's probably off with whatever slutty girl called him _Finnie_, doing God knows what.

Puck gets back into the truck with a twelve-pack and a bunch of snacks he knows she wouldn't normally ever eat. She eyes the bag warily, and he's a little relieved to get a little glimpse of his Rachel.

(Whoa. Not _his_ Rachel. Just...Rachel.)

(What the _hell_?)

"Tonight, Rachel Berry, you're getting the Noah Puckerman special," he says proudly as he pulls back onto the road.

"Why does that sound like a disease I most certainly do not want?"

"Ouch, Berry." He glances over at her, and she shrugs her shoulder. It almost looks like she's smiling. "Okay, what the fuck? You're acting...like a normal person." She blinks at him. How is this a problem? "You're not normal! Ever. So you should be...throwing yourself onto a bed of pillows and weeping."

"I do not _weep_, thank you very much," she says, straightening her posture.

"Rachel," he says quietly, looking at her again. "This is a really weird reaction to you breaking up with your boyfriend of six months."

"He broke up with me," she tells him.

"Even weirder, then."

She shrugs her shoulder and they pull up to the fence around the football field (it's kind of his thing, okay?). He cuts the engine and grabs the bag of stuff and the dozen beer, then jumps out of the truck. Rachel is still sitting in the passenger seat until he stands in front of the truck with his arms spread, shouting at her to get the hell out already.

"Noah, perhaps your vision is impaired in the complete, and may I add, creepy, darkness, but there is a 12 foot fence separating us from the field," she points out.

So cyborg Rachel has officially left the building. He's never been so relieved to hear her spew a bunch of words at him. "It's 10 feet, and totally jumpable."

"That's not a word."

"Just get over here," he says in frustration. She tentatively steps forward, and he grabs her wrist and jerks her towards him (delicately, though. Sorta). "Trust me, alright? I've done this before."

"I wouldn't doubt it, what with your reputation of being a juvenile miscreant," she says. He blinks at her and then turns, bends down and starts pushing individual cans of beer through the chain-link. She rolls her eyes. He really has done this _exact_ thing before. "And just how do you propose to get over this fence?"

"Climb it."

"Absolutely not!" she cries, shaking her head. "This is illegal. Trespassing at least. Coupled with underage drinking, we could get arrested. Go to jail, even!"

"First of all, the drinking was your idea, second of all, we aren't going to get arrested, and we sure as hell aren't going to go to jail," he says. "Ass in gear, Berry. The longer you stand there, the more of a chance that someone'll see you."

He's not sure he's ever seen her move so fast.

He has to admit, she looks pretty fucking cute scaling that fence, and she's actually pretty good at it, especially considering the fact that she's wearing flip flops. And her ass looks amazing (her shorts are even shorter than her skirts). He figures he can notice, even admit it, maybe, now that she's no longer dating his best friend.

As soon as they're both inside, his bag full of beer and fattening foods in his hand as they walk towards the 50 yard line, he asks her to tell him the whole story.

So she does. Relatively calmly. She barely takes a breath, but that's nothing new.

To be honest, he thinks Finn's being kind of a dick, and he definitely should have told her about the cheerleading thing, even if he's not fucking around. But he won't say that to Rachel. Bro code and all that.

She plunks herself down on the 50 in the center of the field and immediately opens a beer and takes a long drink. And then another. And then two more after that until her can is empty.

"Okay, Berry, slow down. Pretty sure you've never drank before, and you're like, the size of my thumb. I don't want to have to carry you home."

"You'd do it if you had to," she says. He doesn't respond, just scoffs and takes another sip of his drink. "Or if I asked."

"Bull_shit_," he says. Maybe too loudly. Actually, his voice kind of echoes in the empty air around them.

"You'd do it. You _like_ me, Noah. Admit it."

"Do not."

"Do too!"

"Do _not_!"

"It's okay, Noah," she says, leaning over to whisper it like a secret. "I like you too."

He isn't entirely sure why he feels so..._good_ when she says it. He's fucking going soft. It's a good thing he's aware of it, so he can get that shit under control.

She lays on her back, her tee shirt riding up and exposing her stomach. She grabs a Twizzler and takes a bite, then uses it to gesture as she's talking.

"You know, I feel this summer has been good," she says thoughtfully.

He laughs again. "Well, yeah. You've got _friends_ now. And you've had the pleasure of my company. And you have Finn."

"Nope. No more Finn," she says. She sits up so she can take a drink, then lays back down. He thinks he hears her say something about wishing she had a straw, but he ignores it because straws and beer? Wrong.

"Don't worry about it. You two'll figure it out," he says. He's confident of it. Finn gets whatever he wants, and all he's wanted for like, a year, is Rachel. And as much as he hates to admit it, he just really can't see Finn and Rachel not working out.

She thinks it's sweet, the way he's trying to make her feel better. She likes the way he's doing it, too, without a bunch of clichés. He's just telling her what he thinks, nothing more, nothing less. This is why she sought him out in the first place. She could have gone to Quinn, but talking to your boyfriend's (ex-boyfriend's?) ex-girlfriend would just be weird. Kurt probably would have cried. No one else seemed suitable.

And she knew Puck would get her drunk if she told him to.

So they don't say much more for a while. They just sit there in the relative darkness of the football field, eating and drinking. Responsibly, he only has two beer. Rachel gets really quiet when she's drinking, he learns. Fucked. Most people it's the opposite. Though, most people don't talk like, non stop when they're sober. He figures it makes sense.

"I love him," she says after a while. They're both laying on their backs. She's had three beer, and she's never even touched alcohol before. She assumes the spinny feeling she has is natural, and she's afraid to ask, lest she be mocked.

"Yeah."

"He's an idiot."

He chuckles. "Yeah."

"Why do guys do such stupid things?" she asks.

He considers his answer for a second. Then he realizes that he doesn't really have one.

"I wish I could tell you," he admits. She's just breathing next to him, their arms touching as they lay there. "Hey." She looks over at him. "It'll be okay."

She nods and tries to smile, then looks back to the sky. He hears her sniffle a little, a couple seconds later, and he's not so happy about that because crying chicks are so not his bag, which was confirmed during that whole pregnancy thing.

He feels her press her palm to his and weave their fingers together.

He's not entirely surprised when she gets up a few minutes later, wipes her eyes on the bottom of her tee shirt (he can see her lacy white bra, and he's glad her inhibitions have disappeared). She announces that she wants to sing, and as he's laughing at her sudden change of disposition, he tells her to go for it.

He expects some lame musical number or something, but instead, she starts singing this song called Stop and Stare that he's heard a bunch of times (it's on like, all her playlists). She's twirling around, dancing, and he's laughing _with_ her, not at her. During one of the breaks between the verse and the chorus, she reaches for his hands and shouts his name (_Puck!_ and it feels strange on her tongue). So he gets up, humours her and dances as little as possible, just enough to placate her.

She ends up giggling in his arms, him laughing as he holds her against his chest. He notices the time, so he says he should get her home. She's much more eager to hop the fence now than she was earlier, and she tells him to hang onto that beer, that he better not drink any without her, and she actually manages to still sound scary, even though he's seen her in a completely different light.

She tells him (as if he didn't know) that she's never been drunk before, says in a sultry voice, "this was my first time," and goes into hysterics in the passenger seat as he shakes his head at her. (And tries to tell himself not to think of her_ that way_, because right this second, she might not be Finn's _girlfriend_, but she's definitely still his _girl_.)

If someone had told him a year ago that Rachel was actually a really fun, really cool girl that he considers one of his best friends, he probably would have punched them until his knuckles bled.

* * *

She and Finn don't get back together immediately like Rachel hoped and Puck assumed.

Puck blows off a date (one who most certainly would have blown him off, which was why he'd agreed to go out with her in the first place) and goes to Rachel's place. Her dads are in Atlanta for something or another (he finds he still has to tune her out every once in a while, for sanity's sake) and she's alone in the house.

She hears a noise (a loud, terrifying one that sounds like something really bad) and gets scared, so she calls him. She stays home alone all the time, so it's not like she's a baby or anything. She just knows she'll feel better if someone's with her.

(_You like me, admit it_, repeats in his head as he drives over to her place after ditching his date.)

She doesn't know about the date, so she doesn't ask. She pours him an iced tea and thanks him for coming, and he shrugs because it's not a big deal (right?).

Some old movie is on TV, and she insists that they watch it. They're both surprised when he doesn't argue.

How they go from watching a movie, to her pinned beneath him on the sofa, he really isn't sure. All he knows is that one minute, she's telling him why she loves black and white films, and like, two minutes later, she's got his tee shirt in her little fist and her lips on his.

He doesn't really question it, because he'd be crazy to. He can't deny that she's hot, and she's single, and that voice in the back of his head telling him to stop this shuts up when Rachel wraps her legs around his waist. He doesn't know where the girl he made out with months ago went, because _this_ girl is fucking _torturing_ him. Her tongue slips into his mouth and she tastes like summer and strawberries, and he briefly lets himself think that he's never tasted anyone so good.

"Rachel, wait," he finds himself saying. (Fucking morals! When'd he get those?) She's kissing his neck, and one of her hands is beneath his tee shirt at the small of his back as the other clutches his arm. "Babe, _wait_."

"I'm not your babe," she mumbles against his skin.

He almost wants to laugh. "Exactly."

"I know what I'm doing."

She shifts her hips against his and pulls away just in time for him to take a deep breath. "I can see that," he says. The look she gives him can only be classified as _dirty_ (and not in a bad way). "I can't, though."

For whatever reason, he doesn't want to mention Finn. It'll be like cold water on her, and she'll probably get all freaked out and start rambling and stuff, and he doesn't want to deal with all her chick crazy right now. He brushes the hair from her face and looks at her, trying to see any trace of remorse. He doesn't. That just makes this all the more difficult.

"I just miss kissing. It's been so long," she says. She's kind of pouting, batting her lashes and staring at his lips.

She's really, really got her mind set on this.

And you know what? Fuck it. If Hudson is enough of an idiot to let her get away, then that's not Puck's problem. It's not wrong if she wants make out with him (obvious) and she doesn't care about Finn (he knows she does, but he's choosing to ignore that right now, since her little body feels so nice under his).

So when she kisses him again, he doesn't stop her. And when she pulls his shirt up over his head, he lets her. And though he's completely surprised that she lets him take her shirt off, too, he does it. Their hands stay above the waist, and he finds out that she's ticklish around her belly button (ignores the guilt telling him that he really shouldn't know that). She remembers that he loves it when she touches, kisses, pays any attention to his ears.

They make out like crazy on her couch for a couple hours, stopping periodically (once when she has to use the bathroom, _"I'll be right back. Don't you dare put your shirt back on,"_ and once when he needs a drink).

He leaves the house and he knows he should feel like the man for seeing her naked from the waist up, but for the first time in his life, he actually feels like absolute shit for making out with a girl.

She said it herself.

She's not his.

(Not even close.)

* * *

The first day of school comes, and she hasn't seen or talked to Noah since that night at her house. She knows how he is, though, so she doesn't think anything of it, really. (And she kind of hid out in her room when he came to clean the pool last week.) And besides, it's not like they did anything wrong. They're two teenagers, both single, both willing. She supposes that any regular girl would have done the same thing if the opportunity arose (ignores that she's not a regular girl).

She sees Finn for the first time since July. He's walking down the hall towards her, looking really nervous and really cute. This camp did him a lot of good, and she can tell right away. He's bigger (how is that even possible?) and his skin is all tanned. He's wearing just a tee shirt and jeans, but she bites the inside of her lip, because he looks _so_ good, and she's missed him _so_ much, and all she wants is him back.

"Hey," he says.

She figures that's a good start.

They both have study hall second period, so they sit together in the quiet library and she tries not to cry as he gives her the most perfect apology ever and tells her that he's been miserable for two weeks since he was so stupid and broke up with her, and he just wants to be with her, no matter what, and he loves her.

She leans over and kisses him, slipping her hand into his, and tells him she loves him too.

She tracks Noah down after school, and he's in the parking lot standing next to his truck, sipping from a bottle of water. "So you and the king are back together," he states. It tastes more bitter on his tongue than it should. "Congrats."

"Yes, thank you," she says, forcing a smile. She's happy, so happy, but she doesn't want to rub it in, because she's almost certain this passive aggressive stance Puck is taking indicates some deeper feeling on his part. That just makes it even more difficult to do what she has to do. "You can't tell him that...that we..."

"That you begged me to make out with you and totally let me get to second base?"

"_Noah_!" she hisses, glancing around to make sure no one heard. "I'm serious. I wasn't thinking clearly. I was...distraught, and distracted, and you happened to be..."

"Wow. Way to make a guy feel cheap," he says, trying not to make it sound serious. That's a big fail.

"I'm sorry, but you understand, don't you? Why he can't know?" she asks. Fuck. She flashes those huge brown eyes at him, all earnest and pleading.

"I think I'm an expert on keeping my best friend's girlfriends' secrets," he says, laughing softly.

"Thank you, Noah."

Rachel has never lied to Finn. Not ever. Not once.

There's a first time for everything.

(But she tells herself it's not really a lie, since he never asks her if she made out with anyone else over the summer. And besides, if he hadn't broken up with her, she wouldn't have been forced to kiss someone else.)

(She wonders if she was imagining the sadness in Noah's eyes.)

* * *

Two new members join glee club, and one of them happens to be a smoking hot girl with a voice that scares the shit out of Rachel.

(Rachel who he's barely talked to in weeks, since she got back together with her boyfriend and admitted that Puck was the mistake he knew he was.)

The other is a guy who eventually becomes Kurt's boyfriend.

For her audition, the new girl belts out a Mariah song that has Kurt tearing up (predictable), Finn trying not to look impressed (lest he be castrated by the girl sitting next to him), Mr. Schue's jaw hitting the floor, and Rachel clenching her teeth.

Her name is Taylor, and she's just moved to town from Boston, where her dad was a surgeon and her mom ran a daycare. They moved to town so her dad could take the chief of surgery job at the local hospital.

She tells them all this over lunch, and Rachel unceremoniously stands and walks away without excusing herself. Finn, of course, goes after her. Puck knows exactly what's going on; Rachel doesn't like anyone stealing the spotlight. It's not like that's a secret.

And maybe it's because she's super hot, or because she sings like some kind of professional, or just because she gets under Rachel's skin, but Puck thinks that he needs to hook up with the new chick.

So he does. And she's really cool. And she's not a prude. And she's not attached to his best friend in any way (which, let's face it, is a nice change). And for whatever reason, her parents actually like him.

So they become a couple. A real couple. She sings lead on one song (Rachel doesn't even freak out, and Puck thinks that's pretty weird). Finn and Rachel continue to sing most of their songs, and Rachel blathers on at the lunch table about how much New Directions have been improving, how their dancing is much better than last year, and their sound is fuller.

It's not that she doesn't like Taylor, per se. It's that she's threatened, and she can admit it. Finn is wonderful at reminding her that she's still the lead, and she's still the best singer that they have, and that having another strong voice is a good thing. She kisses him every time he makes these assurances, and one day after practice, she has her arms around him and he picks her up a little bit. She squeals until she sees Puck and Taylor talking quietly, sharing kisses in the corner of the room.

Puck catches Rachel's eye. It unnerves her that she can't decode the wink he sends her. She's always been so good at reading him. For the first time, she finds herself genuinely wondering what he's thinking.

* * *

Puck and Taylor break up after New Directions wins (easily) Sectionals again. He doesn't talk about it, and no one asks questions. Taylor quits glee and Rachel gets all Taylor's parts.

Puck doesn't talk about it, but he still catches up with Rachel in the hall one day. They talk for a second (which is more than they usually do) and at the end of it, he says, "your voice kicks her voice's ass."

She lets out this laugh that makes him smile, nods her head, and says, "I know. Thank you," and slips her arm through Finn's when he appears next to her.

She's never really appreciated the crass nature of his compliments before.

* * *

When Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury get married, the glee club is at the top of the guest list. As much as Puck wants to think it's lame and stupid and he's only going because everyone else is, he actually thinks it's pretty cool that everyone's being included.

What he doesn't love? Kurt talking about matching his ascot to the bridesmaid dresses, and Rachel going _on_ and _on_ about first dance songs. She gives Mr. Schue a binder (a _binder_!) of pages upon pages of songs, sheet music included, to help him make the choice, and he thanks her as though she isn't a crazy person who doesn't understand boundaries.

Puck doesn't have a date, so he and Quinn go 'together', because they still have their friendship. They meet up with Rachel and Finn at the Berry house, where her dads are gushing over how amazing weddings are, and Quinn goes up to help Rachel (seriously, what is taking so long?) Puck tells Finn he has something in the truck to show him, and each of them downs a beer before Rachel and Quinn step outside again.

They're both speechless. Puck hides it, and Finn doesn't have to.

Rachel is wearing a dark red strapless dress, cut to the knee, and a pair of gold heels. Her hair is up in an elaborate curly style, and while it's been a long time since Puck has stopped denying that she's hot, she looks _gorgeous_ right now.

They all pile into Rachel's car and Finn drives them to the church where the wedding is being held.

Rachel and Quinn both cry, and Kurt uses his colour co-ordinated handkerchief throughout the ceremony. Rachel looks at Finn all doe-eyed and sentimental when he pulls a tissue from his breast pocket and hands it to her (she probably thinks it's thoughtful, Puck assumes Finn's mom told him to do it).

The glee kids' tables all have non-alcoholic champagne bottles sitting atop them at the reception, and Puck thinks that's pretty lame, but he can't really blame them. It's him, Quinn, Rachel, Finn, Tina and Artie all at one table, so at least they have fun. THey listen as Mr. Schue's best man gives his speech, laughing at how funny the guy is, and Miss P's crazy cousin gets up and says a few words, and then the DJ starts playing a bunch of old school songs that aren't exactly terrible.

Which makes the girls get up and dance pretty much immediately. Puck, Finn, Mike and Matt all sit together and watch, laughing and talking, and they're probably having as much fun as the girls are.

Mercedes struts over with her hand on her hip and the other extended to Finn, and she says that he needs to demonstrate his moves, and he's a little afraid of her most of the time, so he gets up and follows her to the dance floor. The guys laugh hysterically as Finn fumbles his way through some old R&B jam. Puck watches as Rachel laughs and Finn shakes his head at her.

Rachel notices Puck watching and she gets this look on his face that he can read immediately. When he starts shaking his head, she does this 'come here' motion with her finger, and she's still dancing, shaking her hips, and so he finds himself getting up out of his chair just as a slower song comes on (_of fucking course_, he thinks).

Mercedes and Finn are laughing together, her hand in his as they dance to this old Boyz II Men song, so he doesn't think anything of it when Puck walks over to Rachel. She's got her arms around his neck before he expects, and his hands are kind of forced to her waist.

"You're nuts, Berry," he tells her.

"I've heard. I do think that's an unfair assessment, however, since you are clearly not a mental health professional," she says.

Her words don't even annoy him. He's busy trying to remember the last time his hands were on her like this. Or at all.

"I don't dance," he says, simply to keep his mind from going _there_.

She gets this devious look in her eyes and grins at him. "Sure you do. This summer..."

He thinks about the football field and her drinking beer and creating her own soundtrack for the evening.

And then his mind inevitably wanders to what happened a week later.

"I thought we weren't supposed to talk about this summer," he says quietly, pulling her a little closer and eyeing Finn.

She swats his shoulder and he laughs as her face goes red. He doesn't exactly know why she's blushing, but he doesn't want to question it, and can't really, anyway, since Finn is standing two feet away.

They switch partners, then, and he and Mercedes have this weird kind of love-hate friendship thing going on, so they dance together and he actually finds himself laughing at her apparent love of Boyz II Men.

Anything to take his mind off the fact that the first and maybe only girl he's convinced has ever known him will never be his. It's okay, really.

They never would have worked out anyway.

* * *

Her dads take her to New York for the holidays. It's all a big surprise, one that Finn knew about and told Puck about, only because he needed to tell someone, or his head was going to explode (that's a direct quote). So Puck sits and listens to all the things Rachel's going to be doing in New York, and he almost wishes (just almost) that he could be there to see her lose her shit over going to see Wicked or the opera at Lincoln Centre.

He doesn't tell her, keeps the secret (because he doesn't care, after all) and just waits until the day comes that she bursts into practice and tells them all about the fabulous trip she'll be taking.

But he pisses her off before she gets the chance to include him in that.

He's hungover (stupid football guys convincing him to go out the night before...) and trying to get through glee rehearsal without punching someone, falling asleep, or throwing up. Rachel stopping their song every four bars to nitpick peoples' harmonies and/or dance steps? Not helping.

After the eighth time (they haven't even made it through the song yet) he can't take it anymore.

"Jesus! It's not perfect! We get it! That's why it's a fucking _practice_, Berry," he says, throwing his hands in the air. Everyone's staring at him, and he doesn't care, except for Mr. Schue, who's probably going to give him shit for cursing. Nothing new.

He can swear the steam's gonna start coming out her ears any second. She plants one hand on her hip and marches over so she's right in front of him. Finn takes a step closer, ready to step in if need be.

"Forgive me if I don't submit to your request simply because you choose to make it in a threatening manner," she says. "I am just trying to ensure that we place at Regionals this year instead of..."

"God forbid you don't see your name in lights," he mumbles.

She uses her little index finger to poke at his chest. With every second word she says. "You, _Noah_," (she says it just to piss him off, he can tell), "are beginning to make me question your dedication. The rest of us show up here to work, every day, and you saunter in when you please. Today, you've chosen to do it reeking of tequila!"

"Rachel," Mr. Schue says. No one is surprised when he's ignored.

"I'm not going to get stuck in this _stupid_ town because _you're_ too selfish to see that we've got a good thing going here, and it could be great if you weren't wasting _all_ our time with your misdirected outbursts and _complete_ inability to admit that you want this _just_ as bad as we do." She turns to Mr. Schue and he's just blinking at her. "I think we should take it from the second chorus."

She makes it her life's work for the last week of school before break to ignore him like the plague. She won't even talk to Finn if he's talking to Puck.

He feels like absolute shit, not because she literally turns her back on him when he's in her presence, and not because she was probably right to take his head off.

He feels like shit because she's the first person other than his mom to actually believe that he has the _ability_ to get out of this stupid town.

* * *

He finds her crying for the first time right before they take Regionals.

He doesn't want to care. They still haven't spoken since before the holidays. Not one word.

The only reason he knows about how much of a moron Finn is being is because the glee club is worse than fucking US Weekly for spreading gossip. Apparently, Finn told Rachel that she needs to watch her pitch at one part of her biggest solo.

To most people, this would be nothing. To Rachel, it means that her boyfriend isn't supporting her, and in a fit of anger and insecurity, she kicked him out of the choir room and told her that she doesn't want to see him until they have to perform.

This all happens the day before the competition.

(Seriously? Puck thinks. Finn's an idiot, but he didn't think the guy was _this_ stupid.)

Puck's walking down the hall when he hears crying coming from the girl's bathroom, and when the door swings open, Kurt walks out, and he's even more fucking confused. Kurt just says Rachel's name, sighs it like he's done all he can do, and Puck waits till Kurt is around the corner before he steps into the bathroom.

Rachel's standing there with a crumpled up tissue in her hand, red in her eyes and on her cheeks, and she just stares at him when she sees him.

He wraps his arms around her, for some reason (he's really not this nice, and she's trying to hate him), and she sobs against his chest.

Eventually they end up sitting on the floor against the wall, her curled against him and him with one arm around her.

"I don't need you to do this, you know," she says as clearly as she can, though her voice is hoarse from crying.

"I just don't want you to suck tomorrow," he says.

She doesn't call him on his lie.

He doesn't call her on hers.

* * *

She and Finn make up (_shocking_, Puck thinks) before they even get on the bus. Actually, they make up before Puck even has his first coffee of the day. All it takes is Finn pulling his _"I'm an idiot, but I'm lovable, and I don't know what I'm saying half the time anyway"_ act and Rachel's laughing and hugging him.

Their performance is flawless, and the entire crowd stands up when it's announced that for the first time in nearly a decade, Vocal Adrenaline is _not_ the winner of the competition.

Finn lifts Rachel up off the ground, and she's actually crying. She can't believe they've won, and for a moment, she doesn't let herself think about what happens tonight or tomorrow or next week or at Nationals. She absolutely basks in the fact that everyone's hugging her, the crowd is going crazy, and this is her moment. It's all their moment, really, and they share it. She thinks they'll forever be bonded by this, by glee and all these memories.

In all the commotion, the only person she doesn't get to talk to is Noah.

Santana throws a party at her place afterward, and it's one of those nights where everyone just has so much fun, they just get silly and everyone's talking and laughing over one another. Rachel is sitting on top of the counter in the kitchen, Finn standing between her knees with his back to her as they play a ridiculous round of Name That Tune.

Rachel realizes that someone's missing. She doesn't know why no one else has gone after him. She's noticed he's been relatively quiet all night, and she watched him slip outside about 20 minutes earlier.

She leans forward and kisses Finn's cheek, tells him she'll be right back, and hops down off the counter.

When she steps outside, she's wearing just her sweater and jeans, so she's cold. She should have known better - it's February - but she's still kind of on a high from the whole day.

When she walks around the back deck of the house, she sees him there, leaning his elbows on the railing and looking out over the considerable lawn, all covered in snow. She walks up and stands next to him. He doesn't acknowledge her. She wonders how anyone could not be excited right now.

"Hi," she says after a few moments of silence.

"Hey."

She doesn't know why he's not talking. She wants to find out. She thinks she needs to get one thing out of the way first.

"I'm sorry about what I said that day," she says, turning to him. She notices that he looks at her from the corner of his eye. "i was out of line, and..."

"No, you weren't," he interrupts.

"I was horrible, and selfish, and I absolutely spoke to you like you were..."

"Rachel," he says. He only ever calls her Rachel when he's being sentimental or serious. (She's always liked the way her name sounds when he says it.) He turns to her a little bit, leaning on one elbow. "No one ever expects anything of me. Ever."

"Noah, that's..."

"_No one_," he says firmly. "And then you start _pushing_ me, so fucking hard, and I _hate_ it, on one hand, because, God, Berry, can't you take a freaking hint?" he asks. She assumes it's rhetorical, so she says nothing. He's a little surprised. "But then it's also like, I've never done anything worthwhile either, so I want to thank you, but then I start wondering if it even has anything to do with you, or if it's just me waking up and smelling the fucking roses, because I'm growing up or something. You know?"

She doesn't say anything, doesn't know how to respond, really, because she's never heard him speak so candidly about something quite this serious. But then he just stares at her and looks at her as if to ask why the hell she isn't saying something. Isn't that her trademark move?

"It's _both_," she tells him, like it's obvious. "You're...you've never, _ever_ given yourself enough credit. I push you because I know that you can do _any_thing." She realizes that she's making it sound like she's known him all their lives or something. It's really just been a year and a half. It seems longer. "And doesn't it feel amazing?" she asks, her face all lit up.

He smiles at her, then looks to the ground and nods. His heart wrenches in his chest (he blames it on the flask he's been stealing sips from all night) because she knows that he can do _anything_.

"Thank you," he says quietly. She almost wonders how hard it is for him to say the words.

"I'm going to hug you." He laughs and she wraps her arms around him. He finds it hilarious that she thinks her hugs need to come with warnings. In her defense, sometimes they do. "Come back inside."

Maybe it's because she's literally shivering in his arms, or because her breath is warm on his ear (he wonders if she does it on purpose), or because he knows it's wrong to just want to stand outside in the freezing cold and tell her his entire fucking life story. Whatever it is, he follows her back into the house.

Rachel announces, "Look who I found!" and everyone cheers, and he finally understands that he's part of something really special, that he's a big part of it and he wouldn't change it if he could.

* * *

As Puck watches the sickeningly perfect relationship that Rachel and Finn have, he starts to really think that he's capable of the same thing. I mean, it's not like Finn's a genius, and it's not like he knows everything there is to know about girls and relationships. And if Puck has learned anything about himself in the last year, it's that he's capable of more than he gives himself credit for.

And then there's Quinn, who he considers one of his best friends, who he's forever connected to. She's the girl he's always thought was completely unattainable, but then he had her. He had her and he let her slip away.

He wouldn't even be thinking about all this if it weren't for the fact that they've been spending time together again. She and Rachel are almost suspiciously close. (Puck thinks that's pretty fucked up, since Quinn spent the better part of their youth making Rachel's life a living hell. Though, he may not be one to talk...) But the four of them go out sometimes, just to movies or to hang out at the mall, and it's perfectly normal, since Rachel and Quinn are basically best friends, and Finn and Puck are best friends. Maybe it's a little weird because they're all exes, but that's all ancient history anyway.

Puck isn't really sure when exactly he starts wanting Quinn again. Sometime between the two of them being ditched by Finn and Rachel (his mom took a spontaneous trip for a weekend, leaving Finn with an empty house) and Mr. Schue pairing up Puck and Quinn during for choreography during a crucial number, Puck realizes that as much as he's changed in the last year, so has she. A lot.

At the risk of sounding like a complete pansy, he wonders if these versions of him and her could make it work.

It starts at Nationals. The competition is in Miami, which is pretty awesome, and a definite nice change from Ohio. She and Rachel share a room, and he and Finn share a room, and no one's surprised with any of that.

When he and Finn walk into the girls' room, Rachel and Quinn are in a heap on one of the beds, laughing so hard that they're red in the face and breathless, and Puck thinks she looks so beautiful that he finds himself smiling all wide. When they're finally composed enough to speak, they try to explain what's so funny, but Finn doesn't get it, and Puck doesn't think it's funny at all.

The four of them go to dinner together while the rest of the glee kids order pizza in their rooms, and it's like it always is; Finn and Rachel on one side of the table, Quinn and Puck on the other.

Rachel and Finn take off after dinner, Rachel claiming that she needs a good night's sleep. She blushes when Quinn and Puck make jokes, because it's 6:30 and they're pretty sure she just wants to be alone with her boyfriend. Her jaw drops when Finn and Puck bump fists and Puck mumbles a lewd comment.

Puck and Quinn decide to take a walk on the beach so neither of them has to be displaced from their room, and he's a little surprised when she links her arm through his and leans against him a little as they walk along the water. They joke a little bit, like they usually do, biting, sarcastic remarks to try to get under the others' skin, and he laughs when she shoves him, and she giggles when he gets all indignant.

They're sitting on the sand when she asks him if he ever wonders if they gave up too quickly. He thinks he's making it up or something, because he doesn't think he's ever really been in the same place as anyone before. You know, emotionally or whatever. And he doesn't know what to say, how to say it or anything like that, so he just kisses her, because he figures he's better at that than he is at talking about his feelings.

He doesn't know how long they stay there, talking and kissing (okay, mostly kissing) but it's dark and cold by the time they start back to the hotel. She presses her lips to his before she slips into her room and tells him she'll see him in the morning and they'll get breakfast.

When Quinn and Finn are trying to decide which variety of waffles they want from the buffet, Puck and Rachel sit at the table the four of them are sharing. Everyone else is scattered throughout the room, Artie and Matt sitting closest, and after a few minutes of Rachel sipping her tea in complete silence, Puck leans close and asks her in annoyance what's up with her.

"Nothing." He knows that one word answers from Rachel never, ever mean anything good. He just looks at her and waits for the onslaught. "I just didn't know that you and Quinn were considering getting back together, or I would have had a conversation about your intentions or..."

"My intentions? Berry, you're not her dad."

"I just think she's been through a lot. And yes, this year has been relatively drama free, but I don't want to see her hurt," she says seriously. He nods, ready to tell her he doesn't want to hurt anyone anyway. "Or you."

"We'll be fine," he says, and she wonders if he intends it to be the promise she hears.

"Then I'm happy for you," she says sweetly.

She steals a piece of melon off his plate and smiles at Finn when he sits down next to her again.

Puck thinks that just maybe, Rachel Berry has just lied to him for the first time.

* * *

They lose Nationals. They come in fifth, take home a bit of a cash prize, and pile back onto their coach bus for the drive home.

Everyone's completely freaked out by how calm Rachel seems. There are whispers and questions posed about her as she sits there, head resting against a pink pillow propped up against the window of the bus.

They're in Georgia, stopped at a rest stop for some food, and Rachel is walking with Tina and Kurt, quiet, but laughing every so often, and Kurt throws a worried glance over his shoulder at Finn who's walking next to Puck.

"She's scaring me," Finn admits. Puck laughs. "She's taking this like...like a normal person. It's weird."

"Maybe she's finally _turning into_ a normal person," Puck suggests. Finn scowls at him. "What? It could happen."

They walk for a little bit, then watch as Rachel splits away from the group and heads for the rest room. "Will you talk to her?" Finn asks.

"What?"

(Puck always feels a little weird when Finn makes reference to this friendship Puck and Rachel have; if it even is a friendship, which he's not entirely sure it is.)

"No offense, but you're the only one who can be enough of a jerk to get through to her and make her listen," Finn says. Puck doesn't really have a response to that. "Just try."

Puck thinks about it for a second, then hears Tina and Quinn talking about how Rachel is acting like a zombie. "Fuck," he mumbles. "Fine. You fucking owe me, Hudson."

"Quinn," Finn says.

That's his argument for any time Puck says something like this. And inevitably, every time, Puck rolls his eyes, sighs and nods his head. He's never getting let off the hook for that one. If he's being honest, he probably doesn't deserve to be let off anyway.

So Puck walks down the narrow hall leading towards the washrooms, and without a second thought, he steps into the ladies' room. He can see her feet beneath the door of the stall, and he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. She's completely surprised when she walks out and sees him there.

"What are you doing?" she asks, aghast.

"What are _you_ doing?" She looks around, as if to remind him that it's fairly obvious. She elbows him aside so she can wash her hands. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Because you're not crying or throwing a tantrum, and you haven't made one call to the competition director, and I _watched_ you put his number in your phone last week," Puck says. She scoffs as she dries her hands. "So if this is all an act, you're a great actress, but I doubt that's what it is. Seriously, Berry. What's with you?"

"We were beaten, fair and square. It would have been nice to win, but coming in fifth in a competition such as this one is actually quite an accomplishment." He's just staring at her. This is _not_ Rachel Berry. She's not even calling him on questioning her acting ability. "I know that may be hard to believe..."

"It is," he interrupts. "You're throwing off the dynamic. The group _works_ because you're bat shit crazy."

"I think that may be a compliment," she says, and he laughs.

But since when does she have jokes?

"You're freaking everyone out. So can you at least throw a fit or something so that people know you're still Rachel?" he asks. She plants her hands on her hips and glares at him. She doesn't know it, but she's already getting back to normal.

"Forgive me for being a gracious loser," she says as she swings the door open. Puck smirks and punches her shoulder gently, just because he knows she'll hate it.

He follows her out, passing a middle-aged woman who looks completely offended that he's stepping out of the ladies' washroom. He winks at her. God, it's awesome to be a jerk sometimes.

They rejoin the group and all sit down in the diner and order their lunch. Puck is trying not to listen to Kurt talk about using more sequins on their stage clothes. Quinn has her hand on Puck's thigh, and Finn and Mr. Schue are talking about something or another.

The table goes completely quiet when their drinks arrive, and after taking a sip, Rachel sets her glass on the table and calls the waitress back over.

"Excuse me? I asked for _Diet_ Coke. This is _clearly_ not Diet Coke..."

Puck tries really, really hard not to laugh as she launches into a discussion over calories and the detrimental effect they have on her waistline, let alone what the sugar does to her vocal chords, and would the waitress _kindly_ bring her the correct drink, please? Rachel has tears in her eyes as the waitress walks away, and Finn goes over to sit next to her, drapes his arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I guess...I guess it's just all hitting me at once," she says as she sniffles.

Puck's the only one who knows it's all a big fucking act, and he shakes his head and rolls his eyes, because every single person at the table is fawning over her, making sure she's okay.

Once they're back on the bus, Finn sits with Mike and Matt as they try to teach Artie how to play Texas Hold 'Em, and Quinn falls asleep, so Puck sits next to Rachel and she's smiling as she leafs through an issue of Vanity Fair.

"I wish I had an Emmy to give you for that fucking performance," he says quietly.

She smirks over at him, all devious and secretive, and shrugs one shoulder. "Just giving the people what they want," she says.

She closes her magazine and they sit there together in silence, looking out the window at the scenery. She thinks that maybe Puck finally understands that her acting skills are impeccable and shouldn't _ever_ be called into question.

* * *

When Finn and Rachel break up, they're the only two people in school who aren't surprised. It's been a long time coming, she thinks, and while he was a wonderful boyfriend, such a great person to be with for over a year, they've been drifting apart for a while now. The sparks have faded, and though their stage presence is still mesmerizing (she knows it is) and they can still talk and laugh with one another, she knows it takes much, much more than that to maintain a loving, healthy relationship.

And the key word there is loving. She loves Finn, still, but the sensation of being in love with him has waned. He's a beautiful man, and he treats her better than she ever imagined, but her heart just isn't in it anymore. She never thought it'd happen, but when she sits him down and they talk it out, he agrees with her that their relationship has run its course. She cries (she wants _so bad_ for it to be him, hates not knowing who _it_ is) and he holds her and tells her that it'll be alright, that they can still be friends.

So she marches into glee rehearsal and stands at the front of the room to make the announcement that she and Finn are no longer together, but they can continue to work together in a professional environment, and any concerns the group has can be addressed after glee.

Maybe they shouldn't be, but they're all surprised that Rachel is treating this like a business move, not a personal one.

But her words ring true, and it's like it was in the beginning, with Rachel and Finn just singing together, but not actually _together_. When they talk, it's mostly about music or school, and no one questions it, really. Puck rolls his eyes, because _of course_, they're that rare, weird couple that can actually stay friends after a break up.

(He ignores that he and Rachel are friends, or whatever they are. Besides, they dated for less than a week anyway. And yeah, maybe he and Quinn were friends, but they were different.)

(Oh, Puck, the lies you tell yourself.)

A week and a half after the breakup, Puck is home alone on a Saturday night. His mom and sister are at some lame kids' party, and Quinn decided to hang out with the girls for the evening. Finn is at the movies with Kurt, Matt and Mike, and Puck decided to stay home, willingly did it, because the quiet is actually kind of nice sometimes.

When his phone rings, it actually scares him. He's doing homework (shut up; he's not a loser) and trying to wrap his head around all this math shit, and everyone he knows has other plans. So who the fuck is calling him?

_Berry_.

Her name flashes across the screen, and it confuses him, because he just assumed she'd be one of the 'girls' Quinn was with.

"Hello?"

"Noah," she says quietly, almost calmly, and it scares him for a second. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing you'd want to hear about," he says. (No way in hell he's going to admit he's doing calculus on a Saturday night.) "Why?"

"Can you come over?"

She asks it so softly that he doesn't think he hears her right. He doesn't know what the hell's going on. "I thought you were busy doing makeovers or something."

"No, I left early. I just...my mood wasn't conducive to keeping everyone around me upbeat. I thought it best to leave," she says.

It's to the point now, where he knows that if she uses all those big words when she's upset, it freaks him out even more, because he knows she's lying to herself, trying to put on a brave face. And the fact that she didn't even address his crude comment has him a little worried.

"Your dads home?" he asks. They like him well enough, but he doesn't really think they'd appreciate him strolling into their house after 10:00 at night.

"No. It's just me."

He sighs, looks down at his work to see that it's mostly done (as if it would have kept him from her anyway) and tells her he'll be over in a few minutes. Fuck if he knows why. Sure, they've had a few moments where they talked about a couple serious things, but other than that, their relationship is totally superficial. They talk because of glee, or because Finn is his best friend and she is dating (or was dating) said best friend. They talk about stupid things, and she calls him on being an idiot when he's being one.

And honestly, he's turned into the kind of guy who thinks twice about going to another girl's house, a girl who isn't his girlfriend. In the past, he would have just had his cake and eaten it too.

But for some unknown reason, Rachel Berry is like some kind of weakness. He wonders if he just knows she'd be pissed and act like a total bitch if he didn't do what she wanted. Yeah. That's it. It's a selfish thing, really, attending to her. He just doesn't want to have to deal with her crazy any more than he has to. Going to her house for whatever she wants has to be better than not going and dealing with her when he sees her next. Totally.

He walks into her house without knocking, because he figures she's expecting him, and he immediately hears a bunch of noise coming from the kitchen. And the house smells amazing, like cookies and stuff. But if she lured him here to help bake or some shit, he's gonna be pissed.

She's standing there with an apron over a tank top and a ridiculously little pair of shorts, her hair in a messy ponytail. Every surface of the kitchen is covered with ingredients, bowls, dirty dishes, or really delicious looking baked things. If it weren't for the fact that all the icing is pink, he'd be pretty stoked.

"Berry, what the fuck?"

"Oh. You're here!" she says. She tries to smile, but fails. "Have a cookie."

He does as he's told (who knew she could produce something so delicious?) and steps closer. He isn't entirely sure what was up with her, but it isn't looking good. Actually, it's looking like her OCD has all exploded in this one room.

"What do you want?" he asks, because she's not telling him, and he figures the sooner he finds out, the sooner he can start preparing himself for whatever happens next.

She stops stirring the contents of the bowl in her hand, and bites her bottom lip so hard that it looks like it hurts. "Whenever I get emotional, I bake. It's calming, usually, and then you're left with something wonderful as a result of a productive way of channeling your emotions," she says. He's just blinking at her. "Anyway, I was thinking about things, and I started with those cupcakes, then that wasn't enough, so I made the cookies, then I moved on to the cake, and now I'm making a pie, and I think that perhaps the baking thing isn't really working right now."

"Okay," he draws out. (She's fucking nuts. He doesn't know why that still surprises him). "So..."

"So I thought I should talk to someone, but then everyone's busy, and the only person I've _really_ talked to at all in the last year is Finn, but obviously I can't talk to him, and then the next person I thought of was you," she says quickly. "So I called you."

He grabs another cookie (there are like, 400, so he figures he's allowed) and nods his head, because he supposes he can understand that. "So, you wanna talk?"

"Yes, thank you," she says.

"Well...step away from the oven, alright? Because all this is a little intense. And weird." She laughs softly, and when he extends his hand to her, she places hers in his. "So start talking." They make it to the living room, and he assumes she's just going to start babbling on, but her face kind of crumples and these big tears start rolling down her cheeks. "Shit," he mumbles, patting her back awkwardly as she sits next to him. "Don't...don't cry."

Crying chicks? So not his thing.

"Remember last summer? When Finn and I broke up for the first time? And you thought it was so weird that I wasn't crying?" she asks, and he nods, not entirely sure where she's going with all this. "I didn't think that was weird. I didn't. I thought...I don't know. I thought it was because maybe I knew that he and I were meant to be together, and it was just a bump in the road, a ridiculous thing that would be something we'd laugh at in the future."

"Right." (He gets it. Kinda.)

"So what's the use in crying over something that you know is going to end up working out?" she asks rhetorically. "And then this time, we broke up for good, and I only cried a little bit, and I don't even know why, because it was just...it was right to break up, the responsible thing to do in the situation."

"Okay." She's just looking at him with these sparkly, teary eyes, and he doesn't know what he should do, but he wants to do _something_.

"But then I started to think that maybe I just don't cry because we're _not_ meant to be together. Maybe I just thought it and..." She stops to take a breath and he just looks at her as more tears fall. "What if I knew last summer that it wasn't right, and I just wasted all this time?"

"Well, it's not like you've been beating guys away with sticks," he says. "You had Finn, so...what's the big deal?"

Wrong thing to say. If looks could kill...

"You're missing the point."

"No, I get it, I guess," he insists. "So why are you crying right now?"

"Because I'm too stupid to know when someone isn't right for me!" she cries, throwing her hands up. "If I can't tell someone's _not_ right for me, how am I supposed to know when I find the one who is!?"

"You're asking the wrong dude, Berry," he says, laughing softly.

"Isn't Quinn the one for you?" she asks. She clamps her hand over her mouth and her eyes go wide. "I'm sorry! I didn't...you don't have to answer that."

"You're not stupid," he says, smiling at her. (No, he doesn't want to answer her question. He doesn't have an answer. Actually, he thinks his lack of an answer pretty much says it all; if it isn't an automatic yes, then it's probably a no.) "You're just...Look, you're barely 17. None of us know what the fuck we're doing."

"You seem to," she says.

"Well, I am an expert at a lot of things," he says, grinning wolfishly. She rolls her eyes as she wipes her cheeks. "I'm as much of a fuck up as anyone else. Probably more of one."

Her face hardens and she literally _stares him down_. "Don't say that." He shrugs and she glares at him until he gives in and nods. "Can I ask you a really embarrassing question that you can never, ever repeat?" He gets a gleam in his eyes (it's still so fun to torment her sometimes). "I'm serious."

"Sure."

"Do you think I'll know when I find the right guy?" She's looking at her lap, thankfully, so she doesn't see him roll his eyes. She looks at him after a few seconds when he doesn't say anything. "Noah?"

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "Maybe. But maybe it doesn't work like that."

She looks at him and smiles (she has her answer) and nods her head. "Maybe."

They sit in the quiet for another minute or so, and Puck is wondering when he became the guy who anyone wanted to have these serious conversations with. Actually, she's the only one who really does. They don't do it very often, but still. Sure, he and Quinn talk about stuff, about almost everything actually, but there's something about just listening to Rachel talk that seems to make everything more serious somehow.

Probably because she's always right. And maybe because she always says things that apply to both of them.

"Can I have a cupcake?" he asks out of nowhere. She giggles and nods her head, and he can't help but smile as he follows her back into the kitchen.

He could leave. She knows it, and she tells him so. She doesn't even really know why she needed to call him over (she's glad she did, because she feels a million times better). But he just stands across from her at the island in her kitchen and watches as she rolls out pie crust. She watches him devour his cupcake and then she giggles when he reaches for another.

"If you want to go..." she says as a quiet comes over them.

He shrugs lazily and situates himself on a stool. "Nah. I'll stay," he says. She's biting her lip as she smiles at him, and if he let it, it'd drive him a little crazy. "I have to taste test this pie."

She grins and nods. "It's strawberry."

He shouldn't remember it, but that's what she tasted like the last time they kissed.

As he watches her move around her kitchen, letting him pick the music they listen to and eat an obscene amount of baked goods, he realizes something for the first time. Maybe it's how domestic she looks right now, or how nice she can be when she's not being nuts, or that he knows she kisses really well, or that she looks really hot.

Whatever it is, it hits him that Rachel Berry is a fucking _catch_.

* * *

He breaks up with Quinn a couple weeks later, but it's not like he really wants to.

It's just that every time he kisses her, he hears Rachel Berry's voice in his head telling him that Quinn isn't the girl for him.

He realizes that almost every time he listens to his conscience, it's speaking in her voice.

Fuck.

* * *

Summer comes, and Finn gets a job working construction with his uncle in Cleveland. Quinn goes away to work as a camp counsellor for the summer. Kurt insists that he's devoting himself to the musicals, that he won't rest until he learns every word and note to Rent, Aida, Evita, Guys and Dolls and a bunch more. Everyone kind of laughs at him, because they aren't really sure if he's joking or not. Tina and Artie have a bunch of day trips planned, one a week, a little adventure. Brittany and Santana are going to cheerleading camp, and Mike and Matt are both working full time. Mercedes gets a job as a nanny, which no one can really picture, but she tells them all she'll be awesome.

They're all in the choir room on the last day of school, enjoying some laughs before they all part ways.

"So looks like Puck and Rachel are the only ones who'll have any free time at all," Mr. Schue notes.

"I'll be working," Puck says with a shrug. "Actually, my business is kick ass. I've only got one day a week off."

"Really?" Finn asks.

"Yup. Just Sundays. I'm so awesome that everyone in Lima who has a pool, calls me to clean it," he says. Rachel smiles into her Big Gulp (it's tradition that they all drink them on 'special occasions'.)

"Rachel? What about you?" Mr. Schue asks.

"Well, I do have plans, personal goals to achieve that will take up a good amount of my time," she explains. It still surprises her sometimes that no one rolls their eyes anymore when she talks like this. "But I'll probably just do like I did last summer. Relax. Hang out with my dads. Work on my tan."

Puck catches her eye and she sips her drink as she looks at him.

He's still smiling when he looks to the floor and sticks his hand in his pocket.

(There's this weird feeling in his stomach that he's never felt before.)

He doesn't know what this summer is going to bring. He knows they won't talk about it, won't set aside time to spend with one another. But he thinks that she'll probably be around when he shows up to clean her pool. He doesn't know what's wrong with him, how much he's changing, but he thinks it'd be okay if she could just hang out while he works.


	3. Senior Year

Two weeks into the summer, one of his clients cancels, so he ends up at Rachel's house early to his appointment, only to find her swimming laps in a one piece (he tries not to be disappointed, but really, what good is summer if he doesn't get to see some skin?) He sets down his things and pulls off his shirt. She doesn't notice him there, so he smirks to himself and checks the time again. He's a good hour early, and he figures it's the perfect time for a break.

So he dives into the pool, and when he resurfaces, she's treading water in front of him. And then she pushes him and he starts laughing.

"You don't need to terrify me every time you come over, you know," she says.

He runs a hand over his face. "This is the first I've seen you since school ended."

"I seem to recall last summer, when you startled me to make your presence known."

(He tries, he really does, to keep his eyes off her chest, but her bathing suit is actually really low cut and sexy, and he can't help himself.) "Whatever," he mumbles.

"And do you normally swim in your clients' pools?" she asks, one eyebrow cocked.

"Is that a euphemism?"

"Big word, Noah," she says with a smile as she kicks herself backward away from him. He narrows his eyes at her. "And no. Well, maybe, but...I'd rather not know, actually. Forget I asked."

He takes a few strokes towards her. "No, I don't," he says. "But I couldn't pass up the opportunity to bug you."

"Of course you couldn't," she says.

She's still swimming away, and he's still swimming towards her, and he wonders if she knows she's totally flirting with him. "How've you been?"

"Good. Busy. You?"

"Yeah, same."

Her back meets the wall and he stands in front of her, where the water comes up to their chests. He's close to her, close enough that his knee brushes the inside of her thigh, and she blinks a few times as their eyes meet.

"You knew I was coming today, didn't you?" he asks.

(She has to know now that he's flirting with her. He wishes he knew why.)

"Yes," she admits. "Which is why I was doing my laps now, so that I'd be out of the way before you arrived," she explains. He's a little bummed that she wasn't waiting for him.

He places one hand next to her arm, his skin touching hers, and he has to stifle a moan when she pushes herself off the wall and into him before slipping away and getting out of the pool.

"Where're you going?" he asks. He totally checks her out as she bends down to reach for her towel. Whatever. It's not like she's being particularly subtle either.

"I have plans with Kurt this afternoon." She wraps the towel around her waist and wrings out her hair. "See you around, Noah."

He gets out of the pool and runs his hand through his 'hawk, wondering what the hell just happened.

Or maybe more importantly, why he didn't want it to stop.

* * *

She sees him that Saturday night, when she, Mercedes and Tina are sipping iced coffees and walking downtown. He's alone, wearing just a pair of red and black board shorts and a white tee shirt, walking to his truck with his keys in his hand.

She might be staring, though one can't really blame her (as Tina is quick to point out, then they all giggle, since Tina has a very serious, very steady boyfriend). When Puck sees them (her) he nods and waves to them (her) and they all wave back.

She doesn't know if it's the heat or what, but she has her first, very vivid, very..._inappropriate_ daydream about him and almost trips on the curb.

She hopes he didn't see.

* * *

He runs into her one time outside the 7-11 just as he's finishing up work for the day. He knows he looks like shit, sweaty and tired, his hair (well, what hair he has) is a disaster. His hands are dirty and all he wants is a cherry slushie and a bag of Doritos.

But then he sees Rachel wearing a little denim skirt and a black tank top with a pair of silver sparkly shoes, and he finds himself smiling through the exhaustion.

She doesn't see him, and he thinks he needs to keep up his 'tradition' of startling her, so as she looks through the magazine selection, he sneaks up behind her. Placing one hand on her hip, he leans down and breathes a hello in her ear.

She jumps and turns around, punching his chest as hard as she can with the side of her fist.

"Noah!" she shouts as he rubs the spot that's sure to bruise. "_Why_ do you do that?"

"'S'fun."

"I hate that." She places her hand over her heart and closes her eyes. He watches her. "How are you?"

"Better if you hadn't wailed on me. Jesus, Berry," he says, pouting a little bit.

"Serves you right!" she cries. She turns her back on him. She doesn't know why he insists on scaring the daylights out of her at every chance he gets, but she doesn't like it.

(She can still feel the heat from his palm on her hip.)

"Hey," he says, touching her elbow softly. "Sorry."

She looks at him over her shoulder. "You're forgiven."

"Whatchya doin'?" he asked childishly.

"Looking for a magazine."

"What kind of magazine?"

All he can smell is her hair and maybe a little sunscreen (before summer break, Kurt had lectured them all on the perils of improper skincare; Puck finds himself slathering on the SPF 30 a few times a day, because looking like an 'old leathery purse' is so not his idea of sexy.) He notices the curve of her collar bone and the strap of her bra peeking out on her shoulder. Summer looks good on her. She looks more casual, more comfortable.

"I didn't realize we were playing 20 questions, Noah," she says, turning around again. She hadn't realized he was standing this close. She looks up, trying to keep her breath from hitching in her throat. He smells like grass and chlorine and sweat, and somehow, that's all really amazing.

"You busy right now, or you wanna hang out?" he asks.

She shrugs her shoulder and turns around again. "Sure."

He suggests that he pick a magazine for her, and she rolls her eyes, but for some reason agrees. She buys them slushies and a bag of Doritos after he mentions his craving. He boys some water and some Twizzlers (he remembers how much she loves them). He stuffs the magazine beneath his tee shirt so she can't see which one it is.

She'd driven her own car, so she tells him to meet her at her place, that her dads won't care if he comes to hang out (doesn't tell him that they practically love him, since he's always so punctual and does such a fantastic job with the pool). He watches the sway of her hips as she walks to her car, and takes a deep breath as he realizes that this summer, he's definitely going to get himself into trouble with this girl. Definitely.

They walk into her house and after a brief conversation with her dads, they head up the stairs into her room.

"Door open, Rachel!" they hear as soon as they're inside, and Puck laughs as Rachel blushes. He wonders what they know of their little girl's sex life.

He wonders why _he's_ thinking of it.

She's sipping from her straw as she tears open the bag of chips, and Puck sits down on the floor next to her bed. She's on her stomach, laying so her head is near his.

"Cosmo," he announces as he pulls the magazine into his hands.

"Predictable," she says. "I honestly thought you'd go for shock value."

"This is the UK one. Total shock value," he says. She leans forward so she can look at him, as if to as just how he knows that. "I've dated a lot of chicks. I know shit about magazines, alright?" She laughs and bites into a chip. "_102 Ways to Make Him Yell Your Name_," he announces.

"Noah!" Rachel gasps. "You can't...read that. My dads..."

"They're downstairs. It's fine." He laughs when he looks over his shoulder and her face is beet red.

He starts reading, giving his two cents on the tactics used, and she actually slips once and tells him that she's actually tried one of the moves. His heart races (Finn, the lucky bastard) and the feeling in the pit of his stomach is a familiar one that he tries to shove aside.

Rachel finishes her slushie and eyes his, and when she bats her lashes and asks for a taste, he makes a big deal of her 'stealing' his, but hands it over and tells her to finish it off if she wants.

She ends up on her back, her head leaning over the side of the bed next to his. She should know better than to think this is really hot, Noah reading from this ridiculous magazine and giving commentary, but every once in a while, her stomach will coil and she'll try not to squirm. He really does have a lovely speaking voice.

The feature gets dirtier and dirtier the higher the numbers go, and Rachel finds her cheeks burning up as he reads.

"Tie his arms to a dining chair, blindfolded, and lower yourself over his hand..." he stops reading when Rachel gasps. "Holy shit, this is like porn!"

"Shhh!" She rolls onto her stomach and pulls the magazine from his hand, immediately shoving it into the drawer of her night stand. "That's enough. That's..."

He moves so he's on his knees in front of her, so their faces are practically meeting, and the look in his eye is so roguish that it almost makes her blush. Actually, it would if she wasn't already blushing.

"Too hot for you, Berry?" he asks, his eyes flicking to her lips momentarily.

"No." It's practically a whisper.

He winks, pulls away and hops up onto her bed so he's laying on his back next to her.

They spend the next hour taking about anything that isn't related to sex, and when her dads come up and ask if he'd like to stay for dinner, he answers that it'd be great, and Rachel smiles at him.

They eat on the patio, the entire meal barbecued (and delicious) and Puck thanks them for having him. As he leaves, he messes up her hair (because he knows she hates it) and says he'll see her soon, says it like a promise and reaches for his keys.

She doesn't know it yet, but this is the first in a long line of evenings like this one.

* * *

He calls her one Saturday afternoon and asks her if she's free. It's the 5th of July, and she's tired from too much sun and a long day of hanging out with Artie, Tina, Mercedes and Kurt. They went to the fairgrounds and took in the festivities and the fireworks, and she's really, really tired.

She's still in bed when she answers the phone. Puck can tell right away.

"What're you wearing?" he asks jokingly. (Okay, only sort of jokingly.)

"Noah, it is far too early for me to deal with your innuendo," she says groggily.

"It's 11:00," he laughs. He knows she never sleeps this late. And he's been getting up at 6:00 every day to work. "What are you doing today?"

She lets out this little noise as she stretches, then lays back against her pillows. (She doesn't know that Puck is picturing her in her bed in very little clothing right now.) "Nothing, really. Why?"

"I got tickets to an Indians game. One of my clients gave 'em to me. Matt was supposed to come, but he got called into work," he explains. "Wanna come with?"

"Who are they playing?" she asks.

"Kansas City," he answers. He wonders why that matters.

"Who's pitching?"

"Lewis. Why do I get the feeling you know more about the game than you let on?" he asks.

"Daddy's a big fan. What time are you picking me up?"

He smiles into the phone and tells her he'll see her in an hour.

He's more than a little surprised when he pulls up to her house and she's standing outside with her 'daddy' (Puck only uses that word because he knows that's the distinction she makes. Shut up.) She's wearing a pair of denim shorts, an Indians tee shirt, and Converse sneakers. Her hair is in pigtails, and she has an Indians hat on. She looks _hot_. Puck engages in a conversation with her daddy (seriously, shut up) while she hops in and buckles up, and Puck promises to drive safely and make sure she has a good time.

He rests his hand on the seat behind her shoulder as he backs out of the driveway, and she's already slipped off her shoes (he knows she does this on long drives). He looks at her again, completely confused as to how she manages to look adorable and sexy as hell at the same time. It shouldn't be possible.

"I'm digging this look on you," he says as they pull through an intersection towards the highway. "Very sexy."

"Oh," she says, like she's completely surprised he'd say it. How she doesn't know how hot she is, he has no idea. "Thank you, Noah."

She's thinking the same thing about him, in his black board shorts and Indians jersey. There's a ball cap sitting between them on the seat. There's some rapper coming through the speakers, and he taps his thumbs against the wheels in time with the music. She watches from the corner of her eye, the way his muscles flex as he does it.

She starts talking about baseball to take her mind off the fact that she's thinking of Noah in a way that is probably inappropriate and ridiculous. He's Noah. He's _Puck_. He can call girls sexy without it meaning anything. Actually, he does it all the time, and she knows, because she's witnessed it. They're friends and that's all, and that's all she wants them to be.

He cranks the radio when Empire State of Mind comes on, and she sings the chorus while he raps, and they both laugh at how ridiculous they're being, but neither cares, because it's summer, and to be honest, he knows there's no judgment. She's not going to make fun of him for acting like a fool, and vice versa. Somewhere along the line, he's come to realize that making fun of her sucks. Unless it's playful. That's all still fair game.

They get to Cleveland well before the game, so Puck suggests they grab some food, and Rachel is very aware that they look like a couple. Women are looking at Noah, then glaring at her, and she wonders if that happens everywhere he goes, and if he's always this nonchalant about it. When she asks, he just laughs and shrugs his shoulder, tells her he's used to it and he barely notices it anymore.

She doesn't realize that guys are doing the same thing to her. He doesn't understand how she misses it. He looks at her as she pours over the menu, her delicate little hands turning the pages. The waiter smiles at her unabashedly, and Puck shoots him daggers. She's oblivious to it all.

When they get to the ballpark and find their seats, Rachel is impressed to see that they're right along the third base line. She sits down, talking excitedly about how it's been _so long_ since she came to a game, and Puck tunes her out, because there are three guys a couple rows behind them who are totally checking her out, nudging each other and whispering.

He drapes his arm around the back of her seat to politely give off the impression that they should back the fuck off, thank you very much. He doesn't know why. It's not like she's his girl or anything. He just doesn't want her to be one of those guys' girl, either. Or...maybe anyone else's. Not right now. Not when she's with him.

He's surprised, amused, and okay, a little turned on, by her excitement over the game and her knowledge of the sport. Peralta hits a home run, and Rachel stands up, cheering, and throws her arms around him. All he can do is laugh, because of course, she'd take everything, even this, to the extreme.

The game goes to extra innings, and the Indians win on an spectacular double play. It's pretty exciting, he must admit, and being with Rachel and all her crazy ass cheering only ads to the hype. He doesn't mind.

They get separated a little bit as the crowd files out of the stadium. She gets shoved away from him slightly, but he keeps his eye on her (doesn't know when he got so protective). He reaches for her hand the first chance he gets, and she jumps a little bit, but smiles when she notices it's him.

Maybe it's possessive, as he starts to notice other guys looking at her again, and he tugs her closer. She weaves her fingers together with his and follows him out towards the parking lot where his truck is. He lets go of her only when he unlocks the door and she climbs in.

As they're sitting in traffic, waiting to get out of the parking lot, she turns up the radio when a soft, slow song comes on. They're quiet, and she doesn't flinch when he takes her hand again. She doesn't know why he's doing it, they don't hold hands, and have never done it before, but she lets him, because she finds she quite likes the way his skin feels against hers.

Once they're on the interstate again, she glances over at him. The sun has practically disappeared, but there's a little light falling on his face. His hat is still on, and she finds herself taking a slow breath as she tries to figure out what's going on between them.

"You can let go of my hand now," she says after another little while, looking over at him. His eyes meet hers for a second and he smiles.

"I know."

But he doesn't let go.

Their hands stay joined for the entire drive home.

He gives her butterflies for the first time.

* * *

She kisses him for the first (alright, second, or maybe third, first) time when they're on the football field one night, sipping slushies and listening to music coming from the iPod dock she thought to bring. They were supposed to hang out with a group, but the group decided to do something Puck deemed lame, so he said he was taking Berry and getting the fuck away from the latest Ashton Kutcher movie. Rachel laughed and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say she had no choice in the matter. (They have no clue that she really _likes_ spending all this time with Noah.)

When she questions his motives, he scoffs and glances at her. "Kutcher's a douche."

"You know, Noah, people often say that about you," she points out. He narrows his eyes at her and she shrugs her shoulder. "I'm not saying I agree, but you know that's what people say about you."

"People say a lot of shit about me. Doesn't mean it's true."

"I know that," she says. They're sitting on the bleachers, right in the center, and he's leaning back on his elbows as she sits with her legs crossed neatly. "And you've changed, quite a lot, actually, since I met you. But...before..."

"You're saying you thought I was a douchebag?" he asks. He doesn't really know why he's offended, but he is. This girl isn't supposed to say that. She's supposed to understand him and defend him when other people talk shit about him. "Thanks, Rach."

"No, I'm not. First of all, I think that term is both overused and completely inappropriate," she says. He rolls his eyes. That is so not the point. "Second of all, we all grow up. Just because you were misguided, that doesn't mean I had any real right to call you names. I didn't know you personally."

He stares at her for a minute as she toys with her straw and brushes the hair from her face when it falls into her eyes. He wonders how in the fuck she can say things like that when he was so awful to her. He's never really realized it before, but he was a complete jerk, at least to her, and she didn't deserve it. She doesn't deserve it. She deserves every single good thing anyone can give her.

"Why do you even like me?" he asks, in pure awe of the fact.

"Pardon me?"

"Rachel, I was _terrible_ to you." He sits up and they look at one another, and she feels her heart race or something. It's unfamiliar. It's been a while since she felt it. "I like, made it a mission to make you miserable. Seriously. A _mission_. There were rules. We posted them in the locker room." She looks back down at her cup and hates that she can feel the lump forming in her throat. "And we're sitting here, and we're like...friends and stuff. How did you forgive me for all that shit?"

"It's in the past," she says, shrugging her shoulder again. "I'm not going to judge you based on the person you used to be. I like the person you are." She smiles coyly at him, and he shakes his head and punches her shoulder. "But I wish you knew how many sweaters you ruined."

"17," he says, smirking at her. "Kept count."

"Noah!" she cries, shoving him as he laughs. She glances to her cup, then back to him. It's mostly full, grape, the one she knows is hardest to get out of fabric. She bats her lashes and smiles at him. "Noah."

When he looks at her, he knows _exactly_ what she's thinking. "Don't you fucking dare, Berry," he says threateningly, sliding down the bench and away from her.

"_Noah_," she repeats. He stands up and takes a step back.

"Don't!"

"Don't you think you owe me? Just this once, then we're even," she says pleadingly, her eyes all wide as she grins at him.

"No fucking way," he insists firmly.

He sees her bite her lip, watches her step closer to him, and he can't move away from her fast enough. She throws the contents of her cup onto him and he freezes, holding his arms out as he sputters. He wipes at his eyes, then opens them to see her standing there with her jaw dropped, like she can't believe she just did that. She doesn't say anything, and he just glares at her for a moment.

"You're _so_ lucky I like you," he mutters.

She half expects him to throw his slushie on her, but he doesn't. He sets it down on the bleachers and grabs the back of his shirt to pull it over his head.

"I'm sorry," she says. She's trying really hard not to laugh as he runs a hand through his 'hawk and grape coloured ice flies towards her. She squeals and moves out of the way before it hits her, and then they both start laughing.

"You just wasted a perfectly good slushie. And don't even think about stealing mine," he warns her. She giggles and steps towards him. "But I probably deserved that."

"Here," she says, taking his shirt from his hands.

She starts wiping the slushie from his face delicately, and she can feel his eyes on her as she does it. She's got one hand on his bare shoulder as she dabs at his skin. She bites her lip as she concentrates, and it's all he can do not to reach out for her. All he'd have to do is raise his hands a little and they'd be on her hips. He raises his hand and brushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, and she blinks up at him.

She doesn't know why she kisses him, but she does. She hops up onto her toes and presses her lips to his, and he tastes like grape and cherry, and his nose is sticky when it brushes against her own. His hand clumsily finds her waist just as she pulls away and covers her mouth with her hand.

"I'm sorry," she says seriously, turning away from him. "I'm so...I don't know why I just did that. I was just..."

He grabs her wrist and pulls her back towards him, and she sees him rolling his eyes before he kisses her.

* * *

She's so much smarter than this. She really knows better. They don't really talk about it, what they are, but their relationship doesn't change a whole lot. They still don't really hold hands (they haven't since that drive home from Cleveland) and they act like just friends when they're in public. But about once a week, they meet up somewhere (her house or the football field, usually) and kiss. They keep things just to kissing (he doesn't want to confuse her, and she doesn't want to push him by initiating the awkward conversation) but they make out like crazy, and sometimes their shirts come off in the process. She'll be laying beneath him on her bed and he'll pull away abruptly and say he has to go, and she doesn't question him about it, because they're just friends.

With benefits.

Sort of.

Or something.

She's not entirely sure _what_ they are. She knows she should try to find out. But she likes kissing him too much to want to question it, for fear it'll all stop.

For his part, Puck thinks that she has no idea that he's got like, feelings for her and stuff. He thinks he might want to actually date her or something, but he doesn't trust himself not to screw it up, and she's too important to him for that. He doesn't want their relationship to change if it's not going to be for good. He can't say for certain that it would be. So he kisses her and kisses her until he knows he won't be able to hold back if he keeps kissing her, and then he leaves before either of them says or does something they can't take back.

He shows up at her house one Sunday afternoon in the middle of August when it's super hot out, and they hop into the pool as soon as he arrives. They talk for a bit, about what's happened in the three days since they've seen one another. He was hit on by a young mom as he cleaned the leaves out of her pool, and she took her top off in front of him. Rachel gets a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she hates, and she's treading water when Noah tells her that he shot the woman down and suggested that she might want to tip him well, or he'd tell her husband she's hitting on high school boys. Rachel laughs and shakes her head, scowling at him when he splashes her.

Rachel tells him about shopping with Kurt and the little black dress she was forced to buy, and Puck's mind wanders, wondering when he'll be able to see her in that. She makes him crazy, this girl. Even right now, when she's floating on her back 10 feet away from him. He doesn't want to need her like he thinks he might. But she's an impossible girl to escape, and he can't even imagine not being her friend now.

He swims towards her and reaches for her, backing her up until she's against the wall and her hands are on his skin beneath the water. He smirks at her right before he kisses her, and she keeps her eyes open for a second so she can watch him kissing her. His lashy eyes are closed, and his hands are coming up to rest on her cheeks before moving down her body again. When his tongue slips past her lips, she closes her eyes, can't help but, and just lets herself kiss him back like she's wanted to since three days ago.

(She's _so_ much smarter than this.)

He loves the way her breathing gets all shallow if he places his hand on the small of her back and presses her into him (not that he hates the sensation either). She lets out this little sound he's never heard before, and it's enough to make him grip her hip a little tighter. Every sound that comes from her is amazing, he's positive. Her hands linger around the waistband of his shorts, and one of his dips between her legs as he kisses her neck.

"Noah," she breathes out, her lips grazing the shell of his ear.

He stills his movement, pulls away a little bit. They've never done anything like this before, never gone this far. "Sorry."

She smiles and shakes her head. "No. Don't stop."

It takes him a second to really register, because there's no way this is happening right now. He's been waiting for her to break out of whatever frame of mind she's in that's making her kiss him like this, but she hasn't (a testament to how he kisses, he's going to choose to believe). He thought for certain when she said his name, she was telling him they couldn't do this. But no. She was saying his name for the right reasons, not the wrong ones.

Her hand finds the back of his neck and she kisses him hard, like she's trying to prove that it's okay, that she knows what she wants, and what she wants is for him to make her feel the way she knows he can make her feel.

It doesn't take long. His hand stays outside her bathing suit, and he kisses her any time she threatens to cry out. Her nails dig into his skin and she shudders out his name again before she tenses and tips her head back. He hooks one arm beneath hers to hold her up when she goes a little limp and she's breathing heavily.

She presses herself closer to him, her hips flush against his as he braces himself with both hands on the wall, and she kisses him gently. "Thank you," she whispers.

He laughs a little bit, because she certainly doesn't need to thank him. Well, unless she wants to reciprocate, which he wouldn't necessarily hate. These aren't the terms of their relationship, but he figures their rule book is out the window already. And since when has he ever cared about rules anyway?

She swims away from him and he does his very best not to groan (so much for her returning the favour). When she gets out of the pool, he understands why. Her dads walk around the side of the house with smiles on their faces.

They say their hellos, and Puck stays where he is, elbows on the side of the pool. He has to clench his teeth to keep from laughing when her dad presses his hand to her cheeks and forehead.

"You okay sweetie? You're all flushed," he says.

She glances over at Puck, as if to ask for a little help with an explanation. "Too much sun," he says easily.

She nods and her dads seem to buy it, and she tosses a towel Noah's way before she steps into the house and heads up for a shower.

Noah is gone when she gets back downstairs, but he left a message with her dads that he'll call her later.

For the first time all summer, he doesn't.

* * *

He doesn't know why he waits four days to talk to her. Probably because he doesn't know what to say. They've taken it too far. Actually, they probably took it too far from that first kiss on the bleachers, or maybe all the flirting they did before that. If this last year or so has taught him anything, it's that he can't lose her. He doesn't want her. And she's too important to him to just have sex with her (because he so wants to) but he doesn't know if he could be the kind of boyfriend she deserves to have either.

So one night they're walking through her neighbourhood, and his hands are in his pockets, her arms crossed over her chest. He thinks she's embarrassed or something, given what happened the last time they were together. Or maybe she's just mad because he hasn't spoken to her since.

"Noah," she says after a few minutes of quiet. "I think it's best if we just stay friends." He looks at her in surprise, not because he doesn't want the same thing, but because he wasn't expecting her to be the one to suggest it. "It's just that with glee, and with school...I've already got to work closely with one ex, and I don't need any added tension, there, you know? This summer has been so lovely, and spending time with you has been great, but...I think we got carried away. We were reckless, and acted upon impulse, and I think it's best if we just...stop all that."

He takes a deep breath and nods. "Yeah. You're right."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he says, laughing a little. "That hard to believe? Don't get all high on yourself, Berry."

"No! That's not what I meant. I just thought...Well, you aren't really the type to just give up on...what we've been doing," she explains.

"So you think it's weird that I don't want to sleep with you?" he asks, his smirk still in place as he watches her cheeks turn pink. She buries her face in her hands and he laughs.

"That's not what I..."

"Because you'd be wrong, you know," he says. "I totally wanna sleep with you. You're hot."

She drops her jaw and gapes at him. "Noah. Don't say things like that," she tells him sternly. "I don't need anything to be awkward between us, okay?"

"Why would it be awkward? I wanna sleep with you, you wanna jump my bones..."

"Noah!"

"Okay," he laughs. He wraps his arm around her and pulls her into a pseudo-headlock, then kisses the top of her head. "I won't say anything about this ever again."

She gets a severe sense of deja vu, and she hopes he didn't feel this way last summer when she told him to keep their 'indiscretion' a secret. She feels her throat tightening, and she wonders why. It's not like she wants to be with him. It's completely selfish, but it'd be kind of nice if he wanted to be with her. It'd be nice if _anyone_ wanted to be with her.

He walks with her back to her house, and they're quiet again until he says he'll see her around, and he hates how non-committal that is. She's been one of the only constants in his life all summer, and now he might not see her again until school starts.

But maybe it's for the best.

He'd just break her heart anyway.

(He wonders if maybe she's breaking his for the first time, too.)

* * *

She doesn't see him again until the first day of school, and she tells herself that's a good thing. She's a senior now, and she needs to focus on school and glee and getting into college. She doesn't have time for a messy, complicated relationship.

And even as she thinks it, she realizes that they don't really have a relationship, not the kind she longs to have.

She's got her first day of school outfit on, a plaid skirt and a black short sleeved button down shirt with cute silver buttons in the shape of little strawberries. She's piling her things into her locker and tacking up a few photos (mostly of glee club, a couple of her dad, one of her, Finn, Quinn, and Kurt from the last week of school). She sees him walking down the hall, and he smiles at her, but says nothing, and her heart wrenches in her chest, but it shouldn't, because he's just Noah. They were never anything serious, and they shouldn't be, because she's not entirely sure he knows how to be serious. Not with her.

At the end of the day when she opens her locker, something falls out, and when she picks it up, it's a picture of she and Noah at the baseball game, taken with his phone, their cheeks pressed together. She smiles and tapes it to the door, and when she sees him at the end of the hall as she passes, she smiles before she ducks her head and carries on.

* * *

When he hears that Mike has asked her to a dance, Puck nearly breaks his locker, he slams it so hard. It's not like he was going to ask her or anything, so he doesn't want to care so much. It's just really hard to ignore her.

She's loud and obnoxious, and as they get closer and closer to Sectionals, she starts in on that whole tyrant thing, insisting that they add another practice, this one on Thursday mornings. He's fine with that, he supposes, since yeah, he's gunning for Nationals this year. He's just doing it more...sanely than she is.

He watches the whole thing happen. He watches Mike walk up to her in the hall one day and lean against her locker, asking if she's going to the dance. She tells him she needs to check her schedule, but she'll get back to him.

Then Mike starts talking to Matt, Puck and Kurt about how he asked her, how she looks amazing and whatever she did over the summer worked wonders,_ 'not that she was ever terrible to look at anyway,'_ he adds, elbowing Puck's arm.

(Puck wants to say it was _him_ she was doing over the summer, but he can't. It's not even really true, is it? And he can't give away this big fucking secret, as much as he hates sometimes that it is one.)

Finn isn't thrilled about it either, and so they get a dozen beer and drink at Finn's place, since his mom's out of town. Finn goes on and on about Mike stepping on toes or something, and whatever, it's not like he was going to ask her or anything, but shouldn't Mike know better?

And after they've each polished off their six beers, Finn grabs a bottle of peppermint schnapps and they drink a little bit of that too.

Puck wakes up and the house is empty, which he thinks is pretty weird, but he washes his face in the kitchen sink, borrows a tee shirt from Finn's closet, and heads to school, hungover. He's thankful they don't have a glee practice, since he can vividly recall what happened the last time he went to a rehearsal hungover, and though he may not really be talking to Rachel that much right now, he really doesn't need her pissed at him.

He's a little late to school, and when he's standing at his locker to get his books, there are only a few people in the hallway. Someone grabs his arm and starts pulling him, and when he looks down, Rachel is seriously determined, and it looks like she's ready to fucking kill him or something.

She pulls him into the empty choir room, and when she lets go of his arm, he rubs the skin where her little fingers have left marks. (So much for her not being pissed at him.)

"What the fuck, Berry?"

"You told Finn!?" she hisses. He furrows his brow in confusion. "About last summer. You told him."

He closes his eyes, because _now_ he remembers, after the second shot of schnapps, saying something about Rachel being a good kisser, to which Finn said something about Puck and Rachel's short relationship sophomore year, to which Puck responded that no, he and Rachel had made out once after that.

Fuck.

(He remembers, though his memory is foggy to say the best, not wanting to talk about this past summer. He likes that it's something that's just between he and Rachel.)

(But don't call him sentimental.)

"Is it a big deal?" he asks.

"I told you not to tell him, that he could never know!" she says. "God, Puck, you're just..."

"Don't call me that."

"What?" she asks, turning to face him again.

"Puck. You never call me that. My name's Noah," he says. She blinks at him (she's trying to figure out what exactly that all means.) "We were drinking, and it just came out. Does he really care? Because he didn't seem to last night."

"He just told me how disappointed he is that I never told him," she says. He's leaning against the piano on one elbow. "He's not angry, but...I should have told him sooner."

"Fuck that," he scoffs. "It doesn't matter. It's not like you two'd still be together if you had."

"That's not the point. He trusted me. He trusted _you_."

"Well, I'm gonna guess that since I don't have a black eye or a busted nose right now, he's not too broken up over it," he says seriously. She lets out a huff and runs her hand through her hair. "It's not a big deal."

"I just don't get why you'd tell him at all," she says quietly.

The warning bell rings as their eyes lock, and she wonders if he wants to tell her the truth. She doesn't know what the truth is, but she wants to. She can't ever tell what he's thinking these days, and she hates it.

She doesn't wait for him to answer. She brushes past him, ignoring the way he tries to reach for her arm, and decides that if he wants to sabotage her friendships, she's not going to fight too hard for their practically non-existent one.

But then she spends all day wondering why he and Finn were even drinking on a Thursday night in the first place, what drove them to have these ridiculous heart to hearts while under the influence. And she wonders if she should thank him for not saying anything to Finn about their most recent...relationship, if it can be called that.

She ignores him all day, and he can tell. He doesn't fucking like it. It's different now, because he knows she's doing it on purpose. Instead of them just not talking, she's going out of her way to not be near him, and he can't stand it.

She gets a hall pass from their geography class, and so he gets one too. It's the last period of the day, and he can't go the rest of the weekend without trying to set things right.

She's in an empty hallway on her way to the washroom when be runs and catches up with her.

"Don't go out with Mike," he says, catching her elbow.

"What?" she asks, her brow furrowed.

Fuck, he hates how hard this is. "Don't go out with him. Just...Don't."

"Noah." It's a whisper, and she shakes her head before meeting his eyes again. "Why?"

He thinks she's begging him to give her a good enough reason not to go out with someone else. He wishes he had one, a promise he could make that he knew he could keep. But he can't just say shit to her to get her to do what he wants. She's too good for that and he knows it.

"_Because_," he says.

If she thinks hard enough, she can tell that all this stuff is connected. The drinking, telling Finn the truth, him telling her not to go out with Mike.

If she thinks hard enough, she can do it.

She still wishes he'd just say the words.

He doesn't, and she walks away.

She doesn't go out with Mike. She doesn't go to the dance at all. Neither does Puck.

He shows up unannounced at her house and they sit together, watching a movie in her living room. They don't say a word (literally, just the niceties) but they hang out like that for the first time since school started.

* * *

Sectionals is a cakewalk, but they're used to that by now. They've got 20 members in the New Directions now.

Rachel trips over her foot at one point and spins in the wrong direction, but Puck catches her and twirls her around in such a way that has the crowd cheering and her laughing. As they exit the stage, she falls against him, giggling against his chest. Puck catches Kurt looking at them, and he pushes Rachel away from him a little bit.

No one's ever noticed their special little bond before. He isn't really sure why he's so terrified of that.

(There's a voice in his head that's telling him he just wants her all to himself, the girl he knows she is when she's not around everyone else. He doesn't want to share that girl with anyone.)

* * *

She starts ignoring him (seriously, like, she won't even look at him) when he starts dating one of the sophomore Cheerios.

But then, 'dating' is a liberal term. (The girl, Tyra, walks up to him in the hall one day and tells him that she thinks he's the hottest guy in school, and that she wants to make him call out her name.)

But you know what? Rachel isn't his girlfriend. She's barely his friend at all. They've pretty much completely stopped hanging out outside of school, and he's not going to wait around for her. He doesn't even know if that's what he wants. He knows he wants to get laid. Tyra has made it pretty damn clear that she'll help him out with that.

But the cold shoulder he gets really pisses him off. He's pretty sure he doesn't deserve it. (So what if she didn't go out with Mike because he asked...told...her not to?)

He's behind her one day when she's walking to her car after rehearsal. "Berry!" he calls out, jogging to catch up with her.

She gets in her car and drives away just as he's approaching. He rests his hands on top of his head and curses. For the first time, he doesn't give a shit if Mercedes, Quinn, Artie and Finn are all standing nearby.

* * *

He stops caring so much about what Rachel thinks and how Rachel's feeling. Tyra is crazy and does basically anything he asks (and doesn't expect him to do much for her in return, doesn't once ask him to be her boyfriend or anything, which is pretty awesome).

But then one night, he and Tyra are at the 7-11 buying snack to smuggle into the movie, and he sees Rachel pouring a grape slushie. She's got a bag of Twizzlers tucked under her arm.

And she's alone. He doesn't know why it bothers him. It shouldn't. But it's a Saturday night, and he thinks it's weird that she's spending it alone.

Their eyes meet, and she takes a sip of her drink, and all he can think of is that night on the bleachers when she threw one at him and kissed him, licked his lips a little bit after, and laughed as she teased him about having just thrown her first slushie. He let her tease him because she let him kiss her.

She tears her eyes away from him immediately, drops a $5 on the counter, and walks out of the store, and Puck is left thinking that this is the first time in ages that he's felt his heart pounding in his ears.

(She was the one who caused it last time, too.)

* * *

It's another two weeks before he starts going insane. He and Tyra are purely physical (they don't even pretend to enjoy one anothers' conversation; they don't even _have_ conversations). Rachel hasn't spoken a word to him outside of glee in weeks.

He catches up to her one day when she's walking from the choir room the the auditorium. She's just asked Mr. Schue if she can practice, and she has a CD in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Puck watches her, the sway of her hips and the flare of her skirt. Her tiny waist and the way her hair moves when she walks. He hates that he notices all that. He shouldn't. She's just a girl he's pissed off at now.

She puts her disc in the sound system and hits play, and she's just taken center stage when he stops the music. She spins around, startled, and tips her head back when he walks towards her.

"I'm trying to rehearse," she says curtly, crossing her arms.

"You don't need it, and I need to talk to you," he says. "So you're gonna listen." She sighs, stares at him, and he realizes that he has no speech planned. "You gonna ignore me forever?"

"I'm not ignoring you, Noah. You've been busy with your girlfriend, and I've been busy with audition tapes and college applications. Of course, you'd know that if you cared enough to ask." She knows she's never sounded so bitter. She doesn't know what it is about this boy that makes her so defensive.

"Where're you applying?" She literally _glares_ at him. He figures that was probably not the right question to ask or the right thing to take away from her little rant. "Look, I...wait. Tyra's not my girlfriend." Rachel scoffs and tilts her head at him. "She's not."

"Sorry, the girl you're screwing, then."

(She must be angry, he thinks. She never talks like that.) "You sound pretty bitter for someone who doesn't care."

"_I_ don't care!?" she shouts, stepping towards him. "Don't you dare try to tell me what I feel. You _obviously_ don't know me well enough to make that kind of judgment."

"Oh, fuck that, Berry," he says. "You know I fucking know you better than most people."

"So then why is it okay for you to date someone, but I can't even go to a dance with one of our closes friends?" she asks. Her voice has softened and she looks like she's on the verge of tears or something.

"It's not like that," he says. He runs his hand over his hair. He really wishes he was better at talking about his emotions.

She scoffs and shakes her head, then looks to the floor. "You don't know what it's like for me, Noah. Boys don't...they don't want me. They don't ask me out on dates. I'm the girl with the crazy goals and the starry eyes, and that's fine. I know who I am and I don't apologize for it. And when someone, anyone, comes along and knows that and doesn't ask me to change? Noah, that's as good as it'll get for me in this town. I know Mike and I wouldn't have been some epic love story, but he wouldn't have treated me like I'm some kind of freak."

He doesn't know what to say to her, not really. She's never said anything like that to him before, and maybe he should have known and understood that she feels that way, but he doesn't see her that way.

(He wishes she could see herself the way he sees her.)

"Rachel..."

"Look, I know that you and I...we have this weird relationship, but no one else I know has ever made me feel as terrible in my own skin as you do," she says. The tears she's been trying to bite back are now falling down her cheeks and she swipes them away with her hands. Maybe her words are harsh, but in this second, she believes they're true. (She can't see his heart breaking.)

"That's not fair," he says quietly, shaking his head. "You can't put that on me. We're friends, Rachel."

"We're not friends," she almost laughs. "We were never friends, Noah."

"I don't know what you want from me."

She locks eyes with him and says one word clearer than he's ever heard her say anything;

"Nothing."

He doesn't think he's felt worse in his entire life.

(He ends things with Tyra for good.)

* * *

Her dads take her to New York again, call it a tradition, and she's going to check out the NYU dorms and the Tisch school. She's still waiting for her acceptance, but they all think she's a lock.

Puck is the last one to find out. He hears the news from Mr. Schue. That shouldn't bother him. It does.

(He hates not being a part of her life.)

He seeks her out the day before she leaves. She's at her house, packing, wearing a pair of loose-fitting McKinley sweat pants and a mismatched camisole, and she takes a breath when he steps into her room.

She says nothing. He doesn't know what to say.

He walks over and wraps his arms around her, and it feels an awful lot like the goodbye it isn't.

He leaves as quickly as he came, and he thinks he's rendered her speechless. He's never done that before.

(That hug was his apology, she thinks, and she doesn't know what to do with it.)

* * *

She texts him a photo of herself striking a pose in front of some big temple in Manhattan, with a happy Hanukkah message typed onto the screen. She's in a little skirt, coloured tights, a white beret and matching gloves, her chocolate hair spilling out over the shoulders of her plaid wool coat.

He smiles.

He thinks that's Rachel Berry's version of an apology. He doesn't think he's ever really gotten one of those from her. (Not like this one.)

He texts back, "Shalom," and laughs to himself.

* * *

When they get back to school after break, it's all about them pushing for Regionals, how Vocal Adrenaline is going to come out guns blazing after their loss last year. Glee club rehearsals start taking over everything. Five days during the week and once on Saturday, they all gather in the choir room and work their asses off, and Puck thinks he might be working harder at this than he's ever worked at anything in his life.

(He doesn't admit it to anyone, but he really, really wants to help Rachel win Nationals. He knows how much it means to her, okay?)

They're the two first people to arrive for their Saturday practice two weeks in, and they've both been busy and preoccupied, so they haven't really spoken much. He's heard about her trip, when she told the group one day at lunch, and she heard about his break, how his mom forced him to go to his crazy aunt's place in Cincinnati and he hated every second.

Theirs are the only two cars in the parking lot, and she's sitting there with the engine running, because it's so freaking cold out. She waves at him through her window, and he waves back, and they sit there for a few moments before she catches his eye and motions for him to come over. He runs from his truck to her car (_fuck_, it's cold) and he sits on his hands and curses as soon as he's inside her car.

Her car where it's approximately a billion degrees.

"Good afternoon, Noah," she says. He unzips his jacket and she takes the hint and turns down the heat a couple notches.

"I know you weigh like, 90 pounds, but it's crazy hot in here, Berry." She laughs and shrugs her shoulder. "Hey."

"Hi." They're quiet for a minute, and he thinks it's pretty weird that she doesn't have any music playing. "I'm going to talk. Don't interrupt me."

"Is it even possible for anyone to interrupt you when you get going?" he asks with a smirk. She sends him a withering glance, and he holds up his hands.

"I said some awful things to you that you most certainly didn't deserve. In the heat of the moment, it's possible that I was just trying to hurt you, and I'm so sorry for that, because I've never, ever been that malicious, and I don't know why I did that," she says. He opens his mouth to say something, but the way she looks at him shuts him up. "You don't make me feel terrible. Perhaps you used to, but you haven't in a very long time, and I apologize for leading you to believe otherwise."

She pauses, and he waits a moment. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," she says quietly. She turns toward him a little bit. "It's just...I think you scare me, because...as crass and vulgar and completely _absurd_ as you can be, you seem to be the only person who has this effect on me. This...ability to make me feel..."

"What?" he asks when her voice trails. He doesn't know what she's saying to him. He has no fucking clue.

"We're friends," she says, which doesn't really finish her earlier thought, but kind of does at the same time. "I know I said we weren't, but we are."

"Good," he says, making them both smile. "You liar." He mumbles it under his breath, and her jaw drops and she reaches over to hit him. "Ow! Dammit, Berry!"

Mr. Schue pulls into the parking lot, followed by Kurt, and Rachel turns to Noah again. "I want it to be like last year. I like our relationship."

"Our secret friendship?" he asks jokingly. (Only it's not really a joke.)

She shrugs her shoulder and cuts the engine. "I like being the only one who really knows you."

He's never told her that she is (and she _so_ is). He spends the rest of rehearsal wondering what else she knows that he never said.

* * *

The first time he gets really, _really_ jealous, he, admittedly, doesn't handle it all that well.

She starts dating some douchebag (for whatever reason, Puck's the only one who thinks the guy is one) from Carmel at the beginning of their senior year. No one else in the glee club thinks it's weird.

(Maybe Puck just has a little more at stake; he doesn't want to lose the girl.)

No one else thinks it's strange when this other guy comes to pick Rachel up from rehearsal one day and ends up seeing one of their entire numbers. Puck's surprised the jerk isn't taking notes or videotaping the thing. As far as he's concerned, Jason is a mole, and Rachel should be smart enough to know that.

She's gushing over the guy before practice starts one day, and Puck walks in just in time to hear her talking about Jason bringing her a bouquet of lilies for their one month anniversary (Puck hadn't realized they'd been together _that_ long). The girls (plus Kurt) swoon and get all doe eyed, and Puck can't help it. He scoffs and curses under his breath.

He glares at them when they turn to him.

"Is there something you'd like to say?" Rachel asks. It's like a dare, and he's not a pussy, so he takes the bait.

"You don't honestly think this guy likes you," he states. He gets blank stares in return.

"Excuse me?" she asks. She wonders if _he's_ trying to hurt _her_ this time. After her confession of how people see her and what kind of person she needs, she never thought he'd say something so spiteful.

He rolls his eye and walks over to where she's standing. "He's a _spy_," he explains. Isn't it as obvious to everyone else? "Those Vocal Adrenaline pricks are ruthless. He's just using you to get info on us."

The room gasps when Rachel's hand connects with his cheek.

(She's nothing if not dramatic.)

"I know this may be difficult for you to comprehend, but it's not inconceivable that someone actually likes me for me. I'm sorry if your own love life is so pathetic that you have to make a mockery of everyone else's," she seethes.

(She's being defensive because she's had her suspicions all along. Jason once made a disparaging comment about New Direction's previous set lists, and she asked his intentions.)

"Rachel, that's not..."

"Enough, Puck," she says scathingly, turning her back on him. "I don't remember asking your opinion in the first place."

(He hates the way his nickname sounds coming from her lips. It's not right.)

But he just can't let that comment go. "Yes you did. You asked me if I had anything to say."

She spins around again, wearing a scowl that he's not afraid to admit terrifies him. Finn walks in and sees the stare-down, and asks what's going on.

"Nothing," Rachel says before moving to the far side of the room, putting as much distance between she and Puck as possible.

Finn comes to sit next to her, and she maintains that it's really nothing. He doesn't quite buy it, but she insists that he drop it, so he does.

The thing is, there's a part of her, whatever part that is, that really wishes Puck would just admit that he likes her. He never has. She thinks it's fairly obvious, but she's not sure if it's in her head or not.

And maybe, if it were more than that, she wouldn't hate it either.

She freezes him out for five days, and it's driving him crazy, because even though she gets more and more annoying the closer they get to competition, and as much as he hates that she's with this other guy, he doesn't want her to stop talking to him_ all together_.

He stuffs a note into her locker, a page ripped out of his notebook, and all it says is _"I'm sorry."_

She smiles at him in rehearsal, and when he flubs his lyric, she laughs at him.

He'd be more pissed off if he didn't love making her laugh.

* * *

She launches herself into his arms when the take Regionals again, and he's pretty sure it's not just because he's standing right behind her when the results are announced. Her arms are around her neck, and he knows that the crowd is going nuts, that their friends are all excited and freaking out, but all he can really pay attention to is her pressed up against him, her saying his name into his ear, and the way her perfume smells. He wraps her up in his arms and lifts her up (it's easy, since she's so tiny) and they laugh together.

"We did it, babe," he says as he sets her down again. He's sure she's going to tell him not to call her babe, like she has every single other time he's used the name on her.

But she doesn't. She just smiles and throws her arms around his neck again.

* * *

The next day, she shows up at his house in tears. His first thought is to get her out of the cold (yes, he cares, he'll admit it; shut up). His second thought is to try to get her to calm down, 'cause her breathing is all weird and she's like, hyperventilating or something.

His third thought is that he's going to fucking _kill_ that ass from Carmel.

(Okay, so he doesn't really know if that's what all this is about, but he knows her well enough to assume...And he's been dying for an excuse to kick that guy's ass.)

He pushes Hannah off the couch and tells her to get lost, and the girl looks worried about Rachel (who she always says she 'loves', and Puck rolls his eyes, because, _lame_.) Rachel smiles weakly at Hanna and runs her hand overtop the girl's head before Hannah leaves the room.

"What the fuck?" he asks.

"Swear!" they hear from the stairs, and Rachel lets out a teary laugh. Puck is glad his sister at least accomplished that.

Rachel uses the sleeves of her sweater (McKinley football, and it's huge on her; he can't tell if it's his or Finn's, and for some reason, that matters a lot to him) to wipe at her cheeks.

"Jason broke up with me," she manages. Puck clenches his fist. "He...he said I'm too selfish and I focus too much on my own goals." She stops to sniffle and take a deep breath, and Puck feels his blood starting to boil. "He said he can't be with someone who's so wrapped up in herself."

"That fucking..." he says angrily before taking a deep breath. "That guy's like, the most self-centered prick on the planet. He's just pissed because we kicked their asses again this year."

"It doesn't matter why, Noah!" she cries out. "He dumped me."

He looks at her for a second, tears trailing down her cheeks, and he realizes that all the things she said she needed in a boy, someone who could understand her drive and determination, this Jason guy is the exact opposite. He also knows she wouldn't have dated the guy if she hadn't thought he could understand her. Puck's pretty sure that some (or a lot of) lying took place over the last couple months. This does nothing to make Puck believe that Jason wasn't just using Rachel.

He also remembers her whole speech the night her kitchen exploded (she was the dynamite) and she called him over to listen to her freak out about 'the one' and not knowing if she'd know when she found him. So now he's trying to figure out if she thought Jason was the one, or of she's just mad at herself again for not realizing that he wasn't.

Puck should _not_ care this much. But he's past the point of trying to tell himself that their relationship is nothing. It may be weird, and they may not even talk every day. She may ignore him sometimes when he wishes she wouldn't, and he may treat her like she's fucking insane when they're in rehearsal and she starts using all this dance-speak that no one understands. But at the end of the day, he cares about her, and he doesn't care if no one else knows it, because she has to know it to at this point, and that's enough.

He pats her shoulder, and she falls against him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning against his chest. "I hate boys," she says, and he laughs a little at her muffled statement. "I do."

"Okay," he says, and he tries not to make it sound like he doesn't believe her.

"More boys should be like you."

She says it so softly that he almost doesn't hear her.

He hopes she doesn't notice that his heart races a little bit. (He's never heard anyone say something like that to him.)

They sit like that for a bit, until she pulls away and wipes the makeup from beneath her eyes. She laughs at herself and says that she must look terrible, and Puck just smiles weakly and shakes his head, shrugs his shoulder, and tells her she looks fine. She scoffs and he amends his statement, telling her she looks like a chick who just got dumped by her boyfriend, and she punches his arm, telling him not to call her a 'chick'.

As soon as she leaves, he pulls out his phone and makes a call to a buddy of his who plays on Carmel's basketball team.

He finds out when Vocal Adrenaline rehearses, and he decides that he might just need to pay Jason a little visit.

The day after his..._encounter_...with Jason, he's walking down the hall and he sees Rachel marching (seriously, _marching_) towards him with a scowl on her face and her short little skirt swaying. She grabs his arm and pulls him into the choir room, and he's a little worried when she doesn't start in on him immediately.

He honestly knew this would happen. He knew Jason was enough of a fucking idiot to call her and tell her. And for that reason, Puck got in an extra punch (okay fine, _two_.) You know, so he wouldn't have to go back.

"_Explain_ _yourself_, Noah," she says, putting her hands on her hips as she stands in front of him. He sits down on the risers, leaning back casually and smiles at her. "Noah!"

"What?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me. I know what you did."

"Sorry, I'm a little foggy on the details here. Wanna remind me?" he says. He can't help but laugh when she lets out a huff and literally stomps her foot. "C'mon. Did you really expect to show up at my house, crying like a fucking maniac," she scowls, but he continues, "and think I wouldn't kick the guy's ass? You know me, Berry. You know what I do to people who fuck with my friends."

"I didn't need you to do that. I didn't want you to! I went to you because I needed someone to talk to. I didn't think that automatically meant that you'd resort to violence." He rolls his eyes. She _totally_ knew. "I didn't ask you to hurt anyone."

"It's not even that bad."

"You broke his nose!" she shouts, throwing her hands in the air. He has the audacity to smile. "This is not funny, Noah! What if he presses charges?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem," he insists. She gets the feeling there's something he's not telling her, so she narrows her eyes. "I mean, he wouldn't want anyone to know that he can't get it up unless he's listening to Sinatra, would he?"

Her eyes go wide and her face goes red. "How do you know that?" she gasps.

(She never slept with Jason. Not that she doesn't love Sinatra, but that was just a little weird for her.)

He grins and shrugs his shoulder. "Beat it out of him, then threaten to use it against him. Oldest trick in the book," he says nonchalantly.

"You shouldn't have done that," she tells him. Their eyes lock and he doesn't move, doesn't say anything. After a moment, she lets herself smile just a little. "But thank you. For sticking up for me."

He stands up and walks towards her, throws one arm around her shoulder as they head for the door. "Any time, Berry."

They walk down the hall like that for the first time, and Rachel doesn't even care that people are staring. So she drapes her arm around his waist as they head towards her locker.

* * *

He's sleeping in one Saturday morning, and his room is cold, so the blankets are pulled up over his bare chest. He woke up early (stupid habit) but went back to sleep when he saw that it was only 7:30. Glee rehearsal isn't until 2:00, so he figures he can sleep in until 1:30, at least.

He does not expect someone to climb onto his lap at 10:30 and wake him up.

When he opens his eyes, Rachel is sitting there. On top of him. Her hair is falling around her face, and she's wearing this sweater thing that has a tie at the waist, a tank top underneath, and a pair of jeans. Maybe it's the rude awakening, but this feels like a dream and he blinks a few times.

"The fuck?" he asks groggily. He tries to sit up a little bit, but that just makes his hips press into hers, so he lays back again, because he really doesn't need any kind of friction adding to this situation.

"Guess what!?" He closes his eyes, because she is far, _far_ too peppy right now. He pulls the covers up over his head and mumbles something that he's actually pretty glad she doesn't pick up on or she'd probably cry or something. She tears the covers back so that they're gathered around his stomach.

"What?" he growls. He just knows she won't leave him alone until he engages. (There's a part of him that doesn't want her to move off his lap. That part of him probably _is_ his lap, come to think of it...)

"Guess. Where. Nationals. Are."

"Hmm?"

"Noah!" she shouts, swatting at his chest. Her hand lingers on his skin a little bit, and he glances at it. "When'd you take out your nipple ring?"

(Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. She needs to stop touching him. He needs her to_ stop touching him_.)

"While ago," he mumbles rubbing his eyes with his fist. "Where're Nationals?"

"New! York! City!" she cries.

"Awesome."

"_New York_! They just announced it this morning. I refreshed the homepage like every thirty seconds until it was posted. Oh, my gosh, Noah, you're going to love it. It's my favourite city in the world! I can't _wait_!" she says quickly.

He's just staring at her. He doesn't know when or how it happened, but both her hands are on his bare skin at his sides, and his hands are on her thighs.

"_Where_ is your enthusiasm?" she asks. "This is fantastic!"

"My enthusiasm is in the three hours of sleep you're ripping away from me," he tells her, and she rolls her eyes. She sits back a little bit (fuck, girl, _stop moving_) and puts her hands on her hips. He's cold all of a sudden, but _really_ hot at the same time. "Rachel, you gotta get off me."

She must sense the tone, because she looks down at him and blinks a few times, then wordlessly moves off his lap to stand next to the bed. There's a moment of tense silence, and she bites her lip, which of course, he finds the sexiest thing in the world at the moment. Then she tucks her hair behind her ear (sexy) and adjusts her shirt (sexy).

"How'd you get in here?" he asks, needing something, anything to take his mind off...things.

"Your mom sent me up." He scoffs and shakes his head. Of course she did. Ever since she met Rachel, she's been trying to push him on her. "Hannah said you're grumpy in the mornings. I see that she wasn't lying."

"Not grumpy. Tired," he says, rolling away from her and pulling the covers up again.

"Noah! Get _up_," she says. She tugs on the comforter, but he's stronger than she is. There's a split second when he thinks of letting go when she's tugging hard, so that she'll go flying (his signature move with his little sister) but he can't bring himself to do it. "I'll buy you breakfast," she says enticingly, in kind of this sing-songy voice.

He stops fighting her, rolls onto his back again and raises one brow. "Really?"

She nods and smiles at him. "Only if you promise to let me go a little crazy over the fact that Nationals are in _New York_!"

_Dammit_. She's so smart. He should have known there was a catch. But he really, really wants some bacon and home fries right now. "Fine," he grumbles, throwing the covers back. He doesn't miss the way her eyes rake over his body. "Quit staring, Berry."

"I wasn't staring!" she hisses. "You're just...all...there."

He raises his brow at how flustered she is. "Yeah, I am."

She blushes, and he laughs. She mumbles that she'll wait downstairs for him to get ready.

As he's in the shower (the water considerably cooler than his average) he realizes that they've never been together on his bed before.

He turns the water temperature down a little more.

* * *

When the package arrives from Ohio State University, he's really, really glad he intervenes and grabs it before his mom catches sight of it. She knows he applied there, but now he's really nervous about it. What if he didn't get in? It's a large envelope, but it's not really thick, and he doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

He carries it around in his back pack for a day, and he can't bring himself to open it. He's scared that he didn't get in, and that he'll be stuck at the community college in Lima (he got his acceptance to that school a few days ago, but he doesn't really care, since it's his last resort).

He drives around after dinner for a bit, he finds himself, not surprisingly, in Rachel's driveway. He cuts the engine, not caring that he'll probably freeze his ass off in about two seconds. He holds the envelope in his hands and decides that there's no way he's gonna be one of those losers who gets someone else to read the letter for him.

He rips open the package and reads the letter.

He walks into her house without knocking and mumbles a hello to her dads in passing. He can hear her singing in her bedroom, and they don't question what he's doing there or where he's going. He's halfway up the stairs when he picks up the pace, taking the steps two at a time.

He doesn't even care that she's wearing the most ridiculous pajama pants known to man (seriously, Berry? The Muppets?) and a little tank top. He walks in and hands her the papers.

"Noah, what's...?" He gestures to the letter in her hand, so she takes a moment to read it.

Then she lets out a shriek that he's sure would make him deaf if she were standing any closer. He smiles and she throws herself against him, jumping up into his arms and wrapping her legs around his waist. He laughs, and she laughs, and her lips are right next to his ear.

"I'm _so_ proud of you, Noah," she whispers.

He thinks she's crying, and he's about to call her on it when her dads step into the room after hearing her scream. They look a little surprised to see their daughter all wrapped around this boy, and Puck pats her back once (his other hand is on her thigh, right below her ass, and he's a little uncomfortable now that Mark and Brian are standing there watching). She sets her feet on the floor and wipes her eyes. She notices that Noah looks shy. She decides it's adorable.

"Noah got into OSU," she says, a beautiful, huge smile on her face. Noah has his hands in his pockets, but Brian walks forward to hug him, and he hugs back. "Isn't that amazing!?"

"Congratulations, Noah," Mark says, grabbing him into a hug once Brian has let go.

"Thanks, Misters Berry," Puck says, because that's how he always addresses them when they're together.

They all chuckle a little bit, and Brian insists they all go downstairs for celebratory ice cream, and Puck can't really say no. Her dads leave first, and Rachel hugs him again. When she pulls away, the tears slip down her cheeks, and he smiles when she laughs a little and wipes them away. She tells him again how proud she is, how she knows he's going to be amazing, and his heart beats wildly in his chest when she smiles at him.

The four of them sit at the kitchen table, eating chocolate ice cream straight from the carton, and Puck answers questions about his future. He finds that he's actually really, really excited about going to school. He thinks he wants to take the athletic training program, and then maybe teach or coach or something, says it all non-committally, like he hasn't talked to Rachel about it and she hasn't assured him that he'd be amazing at it.

So Rachel's the first person to learn that he's going to college, the college he wanted.

He thinks it's pretty fitting, because if she wasn't so encouraging, he probably wouldn't have even applied in the first place.

(When she tells him a week later that she got her acceptance to NYU, he acts like he's not disappointed that she'll be going so far away.)

* * *

Their first night in New York, they spend most of the time rehearsing in the hotel's vacant banquet room. The competition is on the third day of their five days in New York, and Puck is exhausted from the bus ride. It may not be all that far (it was a hell of a lot shorter than last year's journey to Miami) but he had to wake up early, and he just wants to chill.

When Mr. Schue excuses them, he reminds them again not to leave the hotel alone, blah, blah, blah, and Pick nods because he knows if he doesn't at least acknowledge that he's heard the 'rules' (for the fiftieth fucking time, thanks) he'll be asked directly if he understands.

He's ten feet away from his hotel room (_so_ close!) when Rachel runs up behind him. She rests her hands on his hips from behind and kind of peeks at him over his shoulder. It's cute, but he doesn't have the energy to deal with her. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she'd drank a full case of Red Bull on the bus or something.

He doesn't say anything, just smiles weakly, and she holds onto him as he opens the door to the room he's sharing with Finn. He, Matt and Mike went off in search of sushi (Puck's answer was 'fuck no' when they asked if he wanted to go).

Rachel full on pouts at him when he flops onto his stomach on his bed. "Noah!"

"Hmph. Lee'me'lone."

"Noah, it is our first night in New York. It's your _first night ever_ in New York! You can't just sleep," she insists.

"Can too," he says, rolling onto his back. "All this singing and dancing wears me out, alright?"

"Well, I suppose that's understandable. Not everyone has my years of dance training to bolster their stamina."

He grins boyishly and raises his brow. "Trust me, babe, my stamina is fine." Her jaw drops and her cheeks turn pink, and he thinks it's hilarious that he can still make her uncomfortable like this. "I just need a little nap."

She sits at the edge of the bed, so her hip brushes against his, and he raises one hand behind his head and rests the other on his stomach. "Well, I hope you can sleep while I sit here and talk about how amazing this city is, and how much I have to show you while we're here. Or maybe I should just sing. Oh! I know! I'll sing all my favourite Disney soundtracks. But should I do it in chronological order, or by order of my favourite, or the influence the artists had on my life? In which case, I'd have to start with Beauty And The Beast, because, I mean, it's _Celine_." He stands up and wraps one arm around her waist, picking her up easily so she's sort of draped over his shoulder. "What are you doing!?"

He opens the door with his free hand and sets her down in the hallway before pushing the door closed.

"Noah!" She starts knocking on the door. Persistently. He doesn't know how her knuckles aren't sore.

It's not even that he doesn't want to spend time with her. He was actually about to tell her that he wants to see what she has to show him, but she was babbling on and wouldn't let him get a fucking word in edge-wise.

So he stands there for a minute, just on the other side of the door, while she knocks and says his name and things like, "Open the door this instant!" like people only ever say in movies.

He grabs his jacket and his cell, and he pulls the door open again. "Get your fucking coat," he says, and she literally squeals and takes off down the hall to her own room.

Quinn, who Rachel's sharing a room with, pokes her head out the door and laughs when she sees Puck standing there waiting. She says that she and Kurt are giving the rest of the girls facials, and Puck thinks that's pretty lame, but he's kind of glad Rachel doesn't want to participate in that. As much of a pain in the ass she's being right now, he knows it's just because she's excited. Which is at least a little cute.

(Shut up.)

It's just after dark, and they have a couple hours until curfew, so she leads him to the first of the places she wants to show him. Times Square. He has to admit, it's pretty crazy, in a really cool way. Seeing it on TV or in pictures is nothing compared to being there in person. There are people everywhere, and Rachel has her arm through his as they both look up at the lights and the buildings. She tells him all about the first time she was there, when she was eight and her dads took her to New York to see the Lion King. Puck finds himself hanging on her every word. He even smiles as he thinks of her as a little kid, in awe of this city, a little like he is now.

They stop at a little coffee shop for warm drinks, since it's just barely warm enough to only need a spring coat. They laugh and make jokes, and she gets foam from her drink on her lip when he tells her that he thinks Matt and Mercedes are engaging in some kind of clandestine affair. He wipes her lip with his thumb and shoots a look to a guy (who's like, 23) who's checking Rachel out. He holds his arm out for her to loop hers through, because he doesn't even care anymore if he's possessive of her.

He doesn't even know or care where they're walking to until she lets out this dreamy sigh and he follows her gaze to see what she's looking at.

Radio City Music Hall.

He watches her face for a second, and it's like he can see what she's thinking, how determined she is to perform on that stage someday. As irritating as it was to him for the first couple years he knew her, he thinks it's pretty amazing that she never let anyone tell her that dream wasn't attainable.

"You're gonna be amazing here, you know that?" he asks, draping his arm around her neck and pulling her into him.

"You think so?" she asks. She's got one arm around him, one hand clutching the front of his jacket, and she's looking up at him with those huge, adorable eyes.

He smiles and presses a deliberately sloppy kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, I think so."

He's not lying. He's not making light of anything. For the first time, he realizes that she can do absolutely anything that she sets out to do.

He kind of loves that about her.

* * *

They win.

They _win_.

They're all holding hands and trying to remember to breathe as the results are announced, and there's this weird moment when their name is called, and they all just kind of stand there. It's not that they didn't think they could do it, it's just that they didn't want to expect it.

But then Mr. Schue is all wide-eyed, Finn's high-fiving absolutely _everyone_, Artie pops a sick wheelie in the middle of the stage, Mercedes is her hands in the air and her eyes closed, head tipped skyward. Puck looks at Rachel, who's standing a few feet away, and she's just kind of standing there with her face in her hands, and he can tell she's crying. He tries to get to her, and he ends up embracing a few people (he couldn't even tell you who) until he just pulls her into a hug and she shakes in his arms. He doesn't know if she's laughing or crying.

Turns out, it's a weird mixture of both.

It's different, and he doesn't really think about it long, but this is the only time he hasn't felt uncomfortable around a crying girl before.

* * *

She can't sleep. She's still on a high, and being able to see the whole city of New York spread out through her window is making her feel a million different things. She's so happy, thrilled that they've won this competition. She's relieved. She's happy that she's got all these friends around her, people she's come to love and who might love her back. And she's terrified to leave all that behind. They're just a couple months away from graduation, and New York seems big and bright and amazing and scary, and she knows she'll be tackling it alone.

She texts Noah at 1:30 when she can't sleep.

They meet in the hallway with their jeans and jackets on, and she smiles and holds her index finger to her lips. (As if he needs her to tell him to be quiet.) Curfew was an hour and a half ago, and the only reason they were allowed to stay up until midnight was because they were celebrating. With fucking soda and sparkling apple cider, which Puck thinks is pretty lame.

He pulls her into the stairwell, since he's always thought stair cases were sneakier than elevators (it's what they do in the movies, alright?) and she's giggling as she follows him.

"What's with the covert ops, Berry?" he asks.

"I'm just too...I can't sleep," she says.

He turns to her and she's a step higher than him, so their faces are level. "Spill."

(She thinks that he knows her too well.)

"There's nothing to spill. I've got post-performance high. I've always gotten it," she says easily. The roguish smile on his face makes her roll her eyes. "Please refrain from making comments about your sexual prowess."

He leans in a little closer. "You don't know anything about my sexual prowess."

She bites her lip and wonders if he can tell she's having a flashback to a hot summer day in her pool. The way he laughs before he turns around and walks the other way lets her know that he's very aware of it.

"Where are we going?" she asks as she continues to follow him. She laughs every time he jumps the banister like some kind of spy. She secretly loves it when he acts like this, like a seven year old boy mimicking James Bond. She'd never, ever tell him that.

"You're the one who texted me," he reminds her.

"Noah."

"We'll...celebrate. There's gotta be somewhere in this city where we can get a bottle of champagne or something. Those kids on Gossip Girl are always hammered," he says. She laughs, because the only reason he knows that is because she's got a crush on Ed Westwick and she made him watch a few episodes with her. (And okay, he didn't hate it, because Chuck is kind of a badass, and the chicks on that show are super hot.)

She keeps following him until they end up outside in a narrow alley beside the hotel. Rachel looks around, but she's not really scared, though it's practically pitch dark, and Noah wraps his arm around her shoulder as they head towards the sidewalk.

They pass bar after bar, and she assumes he'd just pull them into one and act all confident so no one would question his age, but he doesn't. Instead, he takes them to a 24 hour liquor store and laughs at her when she gasps and tells him she can't go inside. He sighs, rolls his eyes and asks her what she wants, but she has no idea, so he tells her to stand right outside, not move a fucking muscle (she knows his cursing is just his way of worrying), and he goes inside.

He comes back out with a bottle of wine, which he knows nothing about, but as they walk down the sidewalk and she glances at the bottle, he smiles and says, "it's strawberry."

(She always tastes like strawberries, and there was that pie, and it's just their thing, okay? Even if he knows she doesn't realize it's sentimental.)

She starts singing_ "strawberry wine, seventeen. Hot July moon..." _and people on the street are smiling and talking about how amazing she is. Puck thinks she's going to fit right in here, and he ignores the voice in his head that keeps telling him that he doesn't want her to leave Lima.

They end up in Central Park, and it's two in the morning, and he's glad he thought things through and bought a bottle with a twist off cap. Rachel bemoans the fact that they don't have cups, but he tells her to shut up and drink.

It doesn't take much to get her feeling lightheaded. Just a few swigs of wine, the dewy, cool grass beneath her, the memories of their performance, and Noah's cologne. They aren't talking much.

_She_ isn't talking much, because this is the kind of New York City night she's always dreamed of having, but it was never Noah there with her. For a while it was Finn, and then after that, it was just an abstract idea, some man she hadn't met yet. She'd get off the stage and he'd hug her and give her flowers and insist on taking her out on the town. They'd eat and drink and laugh and end up in the park until the sun came up.

It's bittersweet, sitting here with Noah. She's happy to be having this night. She's happy to be having it with him. She just knows that if she ever has this night with anyone else, she'll be reminded of Noah and this moment, and how his arm is around her and her head is fuzzy with all these thoughts.

She doesn't want to think about it anymore. She takes another long sip of wine and passes the bottle back to him. Gone are thoughts of getting caught breaking curfew, going out into the city in the middle of the night and how much trouble they'll get into if anyone finds out.

"Tell me a secret," she says quietly, resting her head on his shoulder.

He usually scoffs and tells her to shut up and quit being so fucking nosey, but there's something about all this that makes him want to tell her stuff. Actually, there's just something about _her_ that makes him want to tell her stuff. He supposes that all started way back on in sophomore year on the bleachers when he spewed a bunch of his feelings at her. If he only knew then what they'd be like now.

He takes a breath and another drink. "I miss her all the time." She pulls away and look at him. He can tell she's pretty sure she knows what he's talking about. "Elizabeth." He thinks he might be bringing down the mood, but she's just watching him with these big brown eyes. "I wonder if she still looks like me. Or what she's like."

She surprises him (and herself) when she leans over and kisses his cheek. "I bet she's amazing."

He's pretty sure she's telling him that he's amazing. For once, he doesn't push his luck and pester her until she tells him what they both know. He just pulls her against him and they finish the rest of their wine.

It's 5:30 by the time they get back to the hotel, but Finn sleeps like a dead person, and Quinn always uses ear plugs when she travels, and both Puck and Rachel slip into their rooms undetected.

They go to breakfast in the morning still tipsy, and she tries not to giggle too loudly when he says he got the best night's sleep of his whole entire life.

Everyone else thinks it's just Puck being Puck.

Noah winks at her across the table when no one else is looking.

* * *

The first time they make love (she uses the words, and he lets her, you know, because it's easier than arguing) it's prom night.

They didn't come to prom together. One night when the four of them were trying to decide who would take who, Rachel, Quinn, Puck and Finn realized that it'd just be too weird if any of them went with any of the others. So Puck asks Santana (actually, she accosted him and told him that no one had asked her yet, and that he better take her; of course no one else knows that...she made a very painful sounding threat to keep it that way). One of the guys (_geeks_, Puck says) from the AV club asks Rachel, and she says yes, because she's known him forever and he's always been nice to her.

But by the end of the night, she's standing alone and her date is off somewhere making out with one of those other Cheerios.

She catches Puck's eye across the room and raises her hand, waving slightly. He nods back. She almost laughs; she should have known they'd be pushed towards one another.

Somehow, they end up dancing together (he knows exactly how it happens; she walks towards him in her sexy black dress, and before she can ask him, he says, "C'mon, Berry," and reaches for her hand). He doesn't even hate the song that's playing, but he thinks that it's insane that now he'll have to think of Rachel every time he hears it.

They watch Santana leave with the star soccer player, her lips fused to his, and Puck just shakes his head. Rachel laughs. and points to the dark corner where her own date is sucking face with some blonde girl. She tells him she's glad the night is pretty much over, but that prom was pretty lame. He wholeheartedly agrees.

He pulls a key card from his pocket and looks at her as if to ask if she wants to hang out with him. She's biting her lip and looking at him through her eyelashes. He doesn't know what that's all about, but he's pretty sure it's the sexiest thing he's ever seen her do. But then again, maybe that's just the fact that it's him and her and an empty hotel room and the fact that they're graduating in two weeks and he has no fucking clue what's going to happen to them after that.

They're barely inside when she spins around, really girlishly, and says, without any trace of anything negative, _per se_, that she honestly didn't see herself ending her senior prom with _him_. She giggles when he smiles blithely.

He's just looking at her standing there, all beautiful and her skin's glowing, and fuck, why didn't he ever have a real relationship with her? He loves their friendship. She's been amazing to him. Over the last few years, she's given him more than he deserves. He hopes he's done something, anything, for her.

He really doesn't know _why_ he kisses her. But she kisses him back. He doesn't know when her dress becomes unzipped, but it does. He doesn't know how he has her laying beneath him, wearing only this sexy strapless slip thing, but he does.

She's a little surprised in how he treats her. She isn't sure what she expected, but it's not this (not that she ever expected to sleep with him at all). His hands skim over her skin like he's scared to hurt her (she doesn't know that he's just a little bit in awe of her) and he kisses her delicately, like he never has before, really. It's _amazing_. They just _work_ together. He doesn't let himself question it.

When it's over, she lays her head on his chest, and he lets her.

"Thank you," she breathes out.

His turn to laugh. It's deja vu, but this time he asks, "for what?"

She doesn't answer.

She falls asleep, and he's holding her, and he figures out that she was basically saying he's the best she's had. (He ignores that she's only been with one other person.)

Even if that wasn't what she was saying, he'll pretend it is. It surprises the hell out of him, but she's _by far_ the best he's ever had.

(The second time they make love, it's the morning after. She's sitting on the edge of the bed with her dress on again, strapping her left shoe. Her back is to him, and he stares at her for a moment, messy hair cascading over one shoulder and delicate hands working the little silver buckle of her strappy shoe. He reaches over and wordlessly pulls down the zipper at the back of her dress.

She smiles before she settles herself on top of him. He thinks that if he wasn't such a coward, he might have been able to love her.)

(And Rachel thinks that if she had high school to do over again, she might have given him more of a chance.)


	4. Beyond

**A/N:** Here it is! The final chapter. Thank you all so, so much for the reviews and feedback! Hope you like the ending.

* * *

The only bad thing about sleeping with your friend, maybe your best friend, is that you don't know how the fuck you're supposed to act afterward.

It isn't so bad at school, since they're both busy getting ready for graduation and a final, end-of-the-year-and-also-the-original-gleeks concert. They see each other in the halls around groups of other people, and they act normal because they have to. The last thing Puck needs is anyone accusing him of sleeping with Rachel.

Twice.

(Okay, three times.)

_Fuck_.

Then they graduate and it's summer again, and Puck's working crazy hours, cleaning pools _and_ cutting lawns, because he needs the money for school. He was surprised when the partial scholarship came through, and all he's gotta do to keep it is be a member of the school choir, which is kind of lame, but it's not like it's anything he hasn't done before. Finn's going to be in the choir, too, so at least he won't have to do it alone. And anyway, Mr. Schue's reaction (total pride) was kind of worth it.

So he hasn't seen Rachel since their graduation ceremony, and that was a week and a half ago. He doesn't know if she's ignoring him or not, but it's kind of looking that way. The girl is the fucking queen of the silent treatment, he's learned that much over the last couple years.

And normally, he'd seek her out and make her talk and tell him what's going on with her, but he's a little sick of always being the one to have to break the silence. Especially this time, when he's pretty sure he did nothing wrong.

(Actually, her reaction to them sleeping together was pretty favourable, if he remembers correctly, and he knows he is, because he can't forget anything about that night, least of all the way she sighed out his name and tugged at his earlobe with her teeth. _Vixen_.)

And he is so supremely screwed, because now he can't stop thinking about her, absolutely can't get her out of his head, just in time for her to leave Lima and him behind.

He's cleaning her pool and her car isn't in the driveway, so he just assumes she's not home (she's _so_ avoiding him). He's never, ever been the kind of guy who really wants to talk, but he's desperate for a fucking conversation so their friendship isn't ruined forever. He hopes it's not too late.

Not that he'd tell anyone but her, but he thinks he needs her, in whatever ways he can have her.

He's about halfway through the job when the sliding door opens and she walks out with two glasses of lemonade in her hands. She's got this light green dress on, and he smiles at her, but it's not like he really means to. He just can't help it.

"Here," she says, handing him the cool glass.

"Thanks." He takes a long sip and watches her watching him. Her cheeks turn pink (really? she's shy now?) and she looks to the ground. "So, you 'bout done avoiding me?"

"I wasn't avoiding you!" she says defensively. "It's not like you've called me, either."

"Rach," he says, his head tilted.

She sighs and shrugs her shoulders dramatically. "I'm just embarrassed."

"Why're you embarrassed? 'Cause I saw you naked and we..."

"Noah!" she whispers, glancing around. Her backyard is fenced in, and he knows her dads aren't home. He doesn't really know who she thinks might be listening. "I just don't...do that. I mean, I've only been with..."

"Yeah, I know," he says. He really doesn't want to be discussing Finn right now. He realizes she has no clue how to talk about this. He doesn't really, either.

"Did you ever think...that you and I would ever...?"

She looks up at him, eyes all soft, and he smirks at her. "I hoped."

"Noah, I'm serious," she says pleadingly. He swears she's like, two seconds from stomping her foot on the ground. He wouldn't be surprised. He's seen her do it before.

"I'm being serious. Look at you." And he does. He looks her up and down, taking in the length of her dress, her glowy skin, how her hair is all shiny and how she adjusts the strap of her dress when she notices he's checking her out.

"What does that mean?" she nearly whispers. She's smiling when his eyes make it back to her face.

"Fuck off. You know what it means." She shrugs her shoulder and he rolls his eyes. "You're sexy. You've always been sexy."

"So this was solely a physical thing, then."

He doesn't know if she sounds hurt or not, but he's not about to let her believe that's the truth. "Fuck. No," he says seriously. "Was it for you?"

He thinks _he_ sounds hurt.

"No," she says, her eyes locking with his. They both smile a little bit and she takes a deep breath. He knows that means she's about to start spewing words at him until she can't breathe. "And no matter how lovely, or how much I enjoyed myself..."

"_Yeah_, you did," he interrupts, wiggling his eyebrows, and she sighs in frustration at the interruption.

"The fact remains that I'm leaving in just over a month and that makes everything absurdly complicated. And besides, we've already proven that a romantic relationship wouldn't work between us, several times actually, and so it's my belief that it's probably best if we just...store that night away as a wonderful, special memory."

(Several times? He doesn't really know where she's getting that from. Making out doesn't equal dating. He wants to ask why she's convinced they wouldn't work, but he doesn't want to freak her out.)

(Okay, fine. He doesn't want to think about all the reasons why they shouldn't be together. He certainly doesn't want her naming them.)

"So you don't wanna do it again," he states. He's just being clear, okay? Because if he could have a summer full of sex, he'd probably be all over that.

(But part of him thinks it'd break his heart if they did that and she left anyway. Which he knows she would, no matter what.)

"I don't think we should."

"But you want to."

"Noah, could you focus on the important thing here?" she requests.

"Oh, I think you wanting to fuck me again is pretty important," he says slyly. Wrong choice of words. She kind of blinks at him, and her face is all red, and he should really, really know by now that he can't talk to her like this. "Sorry."

"You're forgiven," she says. He laughs and pulls her into a hug. (He knows she's not going to answer now, but he really does want to know if she wants to sleep with him again.) "So are we friends again?"

"I didn't realize we'd stopped being friends," he says into her hair.

She laughs softly and wraps her arms around his torso, not caring that his shirt is soaked with sweat from his day of work.

"Good answer," she says softly.

* * *

She surprises him one day.

And it's a really, really good surprise.

First, she shuts off his alarm so it doesn't go off at 6:00 like it usually does.

Second, she climbs into bed with him and lets herself fall asleep. (And okay, he ends up with his arms around her, but it's just instinct, so whatever.)

Third, when she wakes him up and tells him she'll explain everything later, that he should get into the shower and she'll make breakfast. (He doesn't know what the fuck's going on, but he doesn't argue, because he's tired, and she looks hot in her denim shorts and white tee shirt and bed head, and he just really needs to get away from her and into the shower.)

Then, when he's got a mouthful of coffee and she's dishing eggs onto his plate, she tells him that she got them tickets to the Indians game, right behind home plate (_"I have connections,"_ she says, all sexy and coy when he asks.) When he asks about his job, she tells him she called all his clients and told them he wouldn't be coming today, but that he'd see them next week. He doesn't even care about losing a days' work, because this surprise? Really fucking great.

So they finish up their breakfast, and Rachel insists on cleaning the kitchen so she doesn't leave his mother with a mess, and Puck insists on driving. He compromises and they take her car, and, like always, they argue over the music selection the entire time.

They spend their day walking around and hanging out in Cleveland, and they eat at the same restaurant they did last summer, and their seats are so good that he keeps thanking her, and she laughs and tells him to thank her dad's boss, who has season tickets but is out of town.

Puck throws his arm around her shoulder as they walk to the car after the game, and her ponytail swishes against his arm, and she feels so tiny pressed up against him. She's just given him the best day, and he loves that these games are kind of their thing. She's so cute and smiley, and she wraps her arms around his waist, and he just can't stand the silence.

"I love you, you know that?" He says it all casual, because he doesn't mean it _that way_, but he certainly means it.

Rachel smiles up at him. "I know."

He just stares at her, waiting for her to say more, but she runs away, laughing, and he shakes his head at her until he gets to the car. She's standing there by the door when he unlocks it, and she leans up to kiss his cheek and says the words back to him.

It's the first time they've said them, in any capacity. It's not like he's _in love _with her, or she's _in love_ with him, but whatever. He feels good, knowing that she knows.

* * *

Midway through July, he walks into her bedroom and notices that there are boxes packed, messes everywhere, and she's nowhere in sight. She doesn't leave for another two weeks. Leave it to Berry to be all hyper-organized and anal about her packing and moving and everything.

He knows she scored a single room. Her 'impeccable transcript and stunning audition tape' (her words) secured her among the select few who don't have roommates. And after she showed him the NYU dorms when they were in New York, he knows that's a really good thing. He saw those girls, and they all looked like Cheerios, just in jeans and button down shirts and whatever (okay, the ones he saw anyway) and he doesn't want Rachel to have to deal with any of the same shit she had to deal with at the beginning of her high school years. (What? He cares.)

And also, with the amount of rehearsing she does, any roommate of hers would probably smother her in her sleep, and he doesn't really want that happening, either.

Looking around her room now, he's a little freaked out, because it's a disaster (and it's never, ever a disaster; he's often wondered how the hell she keeps the thing so clean). And also because she's nowhere to be seen.

"Rach?" he says. Her dad is downstairs, and he sent Puck up, so he knows she's gotta be here somewhere. "Berry!"

He hears a sniffle, then, "in here," coming from the closet, and when he looks through the door, he sees her sitting there with clothes piled around her, some folded, some not. She's got a red tee shirt in her hands and tears on her cheeks.

So much for his suggestion that they go over to Artie's place where everyone's hanging out for the night to enjoy a horror movie marathon.

She wipes at her cheeks and tries to smile at him, but it doesn't work, and he sits down next to her, wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her against him. "What's this?"

"I'm packing."

"I see that," he says with a laugh.

"I'm cleaning stuff out first, giving it to Goodwill," she explains.

"That's...nice."

"You know what this is?" she asks, holding the shirt in her hands. He shrugs and looks at her questioningly. "This is the shirt I wore the first time we performed Don't Stop Believin'."

"Oh yeah," he laughs. She glances at him with her brow furrowed. "Oh. Right. I uh...I saw you guys. In the auditorium."

"You did?" she breathes out. Her eyes are all soft now, like she...admires him or something.

He shrugs his shoulder. "I wanted to see what the big deal was. Why Finn was ditching us. Then I saw him with his hands all over you, and you looking at him like you wanted to fucking devour him, and I..."

"Hey!" she laughs.

"_Please_. I'm surprised you didn't jump on him right there on stage," he says. Her cheeks go red and Puck laughs. (He's heard all about she and Finn's first kiss.) "So why are you sitting here crying over a tee shirt?"

"It's not the tee shirt," she tells him. "It's just...it's all over, Noah. High school, glee, all of it."

"Well, it happens, Berry. It's called growing up."

"I don't wanna grow up." She's literally pouting. He can see her bottom lip poking out.

(He resists the urge to kiss her.)

"Well, I hate to tell ya, but you have to, babe," he says. She wipes at her eyes again and throws the tee shirt on the top of her_ 'To Keep, But Staying In Lima' _pile. (And yes, she's got them labeled in pink Sharpie on pieces of paper.) And then she starts laughing. Like, really laughing. It's freaking him out. "What?"

"I always end up crying in front of you," she manages. He laughs and kisses the top of her head.

"I know," he says. "You've gotta fucking stop that one of these days."

She shoves at him, then stands up and extends her hand to help him up, though they both know very well that he can manage on his own. He stands in front of her and sees a little plaid skirt on a hanger, and when he leans forward to grab it, she doesn't move. His chest brushes against hers and when he pulls away, she's looking up at him like...well, like she's about to jump on him right then and there. He holds the skirt between them and smirks at her before tossing it onto the same pile as her red tee shirt.

"Why'd you do that? I like that skirt," she says.

"Oh, so do I. That's why it's staying right here," he says, his voice low.

"Noah..."

"You're only allowed to wear that around me," he insists. She's sure he isn't joking.

"Why? So you can fixate on my legs and fantasize like a school boy?"

He smiles and nods. "Exactly." She rolls her eyes and walks away from him, into her room. She moves a couple boxes aside to clear a better path to the door. "You wanna go watch people get murdered and stuff? Artie's place. I said I'd convince you."

"I hate graphic violence," she reminds him.

"Which is exactly why they sent me," he says. "I'm the only one awesome enough to be able to make you do it."

(He can hear the innuendo in his phrase, but she doesn't notice it.)

"Or, we could stay here and you could help me with this stuff," she says, gesturing around her messy room.

"Or," he says, pulling a few things off her bed and tossing them onto the floor, "we could stay here and you could _not_ force me into being your bitch."

She rolls her eyes, but when he lays down on her bed, shoving at her pillows so almost all of them are behind him, she smiles and walks towards her DVD player. He doesn't ask questions. She comes back over and lays down next to him, linking her arm through his.

"You're right. A night in with you watching The Way We Were sounds perfect," she says dreamily, and she laughs when he tries to pull away from her to stand up. She just locks her arm around his, and they both know he could really get away if he wanted to, but he just sighs and flops back against the pillows.

"_Fine_. But you fucking _owe_ me," he mumbles. She laughs and leans up, kissing the side of his mouth as the opening credits roll.

The truth is, he doesn't hate the movie (whatever, she made him watch it once before) and it's kind of nice to just lay there with her.

She's happy to spend the night alone with him. The boxes in her room are forcing her, for the first time, to accept the reality that she's _really_ leaving.

* * *

She almost tears up (it seems that's all she's been doing this summer) when Quinn insists on throwing a going away party for her. She's the first of any of them to leave, and she's the one going the furthest away, one of two going out of state. Kurt is going to school in Chicago, but everyone else is spreading around Ohio. Cleveland, Columbus and Cincinnati, mostly.

So at first the thinks it's just an excuse for a party, but then she remembers that these people really _are_ all her friends, and when she's talking to Quinn and Brittany and they tell her that they're going to miss her, she thinks she's been crying way too much this summer. She decides that from here on out, she's going to harness her emotions and store them for a later date, like any good actress does.

After all, her drama and music classes will be starting in mere weeks, and she needs to be prepared. She isn't sure what the talent levels of her classmates will be, but she wants to prove that she belongs, because she _so_ does.

They plan the party for the night before she leaves, and they have it at Santana's house, since for the last couple years, that's been their go-to party location. Her parents are away a lot, and even when they're home, they don't really care who comes over or what they do, as long as no one drives after they've been drinking.

All her stuff is packed into a U-Haul trailer, save for a few outfits in her closet and a travel bag for the ride to New York. She's talked to everyone, and they've all committed to coming, saying they're going to miss her so much, and she can already tell that the night is going to be full of a lot of emotions.

She's trying to find something - anything - to wear, and as she rifles through her closet, she comes upon that little plaid skirt that Noah seemed to like so much, and she laughs softly when she takes it off the hanger and tosses it on to her bed. She searches for a top, and since it's approximately 90 degrees outside, she settles on a plain black camisole. She grabs a cute little pair of strappy heels, which she thinks will look pretty good. She curls her hair a little more than she normally would, and grabs a black headband to secure it in place.

Finn picks her up, as discussed, and when she gets into his car, she notices that Quinn, Kurt and Tina are all squeezed together in the back, and they all laugh when they claim that Finn is their DD. Rachel can tell immediately that this was not Finn's choice, really (last she talked to him, he was going to crash at Santana's). Rachel feels all nostalgic, sitting in the passenger seat of Finn's car with 'gleeks' in the back, and when she glances over at him, he smiles at her as if he's thinking the same thing.

They walk into Santana's place and Artie, their designated bar-keep, smiles at her and passes her a martini. He doesn't drink, so he's always in charge of pouring and making sure no one gets crazy. They've really got this party thing down to a science. Matt and Mike are standing by the stereo, leaving through CDs that people have brought, and Mercedes is pouring chips into bowls. Brittany is dancing as she sips her vodka cooler, and Santana bounds down the stairs to say hello and assure everyone that her parents won't be coming downstairs for the rest of the night.

Rachel notices one person is absent. It's glaringly obvious. But she ignores it, because she's sure he'll show up eventually, and he's always telling her that it's way more badass to show up late to a party.

The drinks are flowing, as are the memories, and Mike puts on some crazy underground hip hop and pop and locks on the back deck, where they've been hanging out for the evening. He's trying to teach Finn some moves, but the same thing happens that always happens; Finn laughs at his own lack of coordination and leaves it to Mike, and then Matt gets up and does the robot. Some Beyoncé comes on, and then they all start talking about their first year in glee, and how she was kind of their mascot, they did so many of her songs.

They force Rachel to sing, and she rolls her eyes, but she's smiling, and they tell her to do Halo, because that's what they've been talking about (Mr. Schue's crazy wife and 'vitamins' and mash-ups). She says she'll do it if the guys - all of them, even Artie - do the Single Ladies routine, and they've all had enough to drink (well, except Finn and Artie) that they agree.

So Rachel belts out Halo (not the manic, drug-fueled version, but the slower original), and Kurt places his hand on his heart and Quinn tears up, and then Finn's saying his life is going to be so, so weird without her singing the soundtrack. It's just about the sweetest thing she's ever heard.

But there's another boy who says different, sweeter things, and he's still nowhere to be seen.

When she slips into the house to use the bathroom and get herself a refill, she finds herself behind a locked door, looking at herself in the mirror and holding her breath to keep from crying. It's almost midnight, and in her opinion, it's painfully clear that Noah isn't coming. She's leaving at 10:00 am, and there's no way in hell he's going to get a chance to see her before she goes.

He's not even going to say goodbye?

She heads to the kitchen, where there are an abundance of bottles lined up on the counter, and she reaches for the bottle of JD (it's his whiskey of choice) and takes a long swig. She doesn't even _like_ whiskey.

But then, she doesn't like Noah very much right now either.

She doesn't even realize Quinn's in the kitchen until she sets the bottle on the counter and Quinn steps towards her. She sends the blonde a smile, but she knows it's not a convincing one.

"He'll be here," Quinn says knowingly.

Rachel's very close to asking what Quinn is talking about, but she figures she's past the point of playing dumb, and Quinn doesn't seem too concerned about the fact that Rachel obviously has some kind of relationship with Noah. In fact, Quinn has been asking for details since they got back to New York. Rachel's glad she's a good enough actress that when she says, _"There are no details," _Quinn believes her.

"I don't think so," Rachel says, shaking her head. She throws her arm around Quinn's shoulder and grabs a drink for each of them. "Who cares! His loss."

Quinn laughs (Rachel can tell she doesn't really mean it), and they head back outside, but Rachel knows her smile isn't as bright as it should be, and she's not having as much fun as she should be, and for the first time in years, she hates him a little bit. He's letting her down, and he has to know it.

She knows saying goodbye to him is going to be hard, but she still wants to do it.

It's 2:00 by the time they all start saying their goodbyes, and Rachel tries really hard not to cry, but she doesn't do a very good job. She hugs everyone, and it's stupid, because she'll be talking, texting, IM-ing, and emailing with them all, like, tomorrow, but it's sad, leaving this all behind.

Finn drives her home. Predictably, everyone else decided to stay at Santana's (happens every time, and Finn just rolls his eyes as he grabs his keys). They're pretty quiet in the car, because she's been drinking, and he's afraid to talk about her leaving. She can tell he doesn't really want it to happen (he's been trying to hide it, but after what he said tonight, she knows he's going to miss her a whole lot).

He walks her to the door and wraps her up on this big hug that she kind of melts into, and he kisses her forehead when he pulls away. He tells her to travel safe, text him when she gets there, and try not to forget about him when she starts living her fabulous New York life.

She waits until he's pulled off her street before she opens the door again, locking it behind her, and takes off down the street. She knows it's stupid, since it's the middle of the night, and her dads would absolutely kill her if they knew she was prowling around the neighbourhood alone at night.

But she has somewhere to be.

And she happens to have a key to his front door. (He gave it to her last summer, when her dads went away after Noah forced her to watch Paranormal Activity, and there was no way she could stay home alone.) She lets herself in quietly, though she really just feels like marching up the stairs and yelling at him for being _such_ a jackass. She doesn't think his mom or Hannah would love it if they were woken up at this hour by one of her tirades.

She gets to his room and pushes open the door, and he's just laying there on his bed with a pair of headphones on. He's awake, and he looks at her like she's insane. He can tell by the way she's breathing that she's about to start crying any second.

"Rach..."

"Don't," she whispers, shaking her head.

He looks her up and down. The skirt he loves, the little top, her hair, the heels. She looks so fucking good that it hurts. He hates his life, hates that he has to give her up to New York City.

"I just..."

She surprises him (and herself, a little bit) when she pulls her headband from her hair, then steps out of her shoes. She unzips her skirt and lets it fall to the floor, then she's pulling her shirt over her head and he's sitting up to look at her. All of her, and she's wearing just a black bra and matching underwear. He wishes he was the kind of guy who could say, _'no, you've been drinking,' _but fuck that. He doesn't care.

She walks towards the bed and straddles his lap, and his hands find her thighs immediately. She runs her hands over his chest and gazes down at him, her brown eyes shimmering in the dim lighting of his room.

The glow of her skin, the way she's sitting on him and touching him, and the way she leans down to kiss him are all a harsh juxtaposition to the words she says next.

"I _hate_ you." She says it against his lips, and when she pulls away just slightly, he leans up to kiss her again. "You're such a jerk." Her hands are braced above his shoulders, her hair falling around her face, though she flips it so it's over one shoulder (fuck, could she be any sexier?) "I wish you knew how it felt when I realized you weren't coming."

She kisses him, and he can't stop her, though he knows he should, since she's in about four million different emotional places. She's too good at this, and she's too beautiful, and she feels too amazing all pressed up against him. And she's leaving, and he hates it, and he needs to feel her in any way he can right now.

"I'm so sorry," he says softly, running his hand over her cheek. "I just...couldn't."

"Why?" she asks. She's sitting up again now, and it's so fucking hard to concentrate on her words when she's half naked and pushing up his tee shirt with her little hands.

"I didn't want to say goodbye," he admits. She almost doesn't hear him, he says it so quietly. "Not like that, in front of everybody."

He sits up so she can pull his shirt over his head, and once she's dropped it on the floor next to the bed, she takes his face in her hands and just barely grazes his lips with hers.

"Say it now," she says against his lips.

They're quiet, slow, and he _worships_ her. It's like he's apologizing, holding on, and saying goodbye all at once, and he doesn't even care to think about how this isn't really _him_. He doesn't ever act like this (or so he likes to tell himself). She's been making him break his rules for years now, and he doesn't fucking care anymore. She's his exception, always, and _oh, god,_ no one can make him feel like this. She's all legs wrapped around his waist and a hand at the back of his neck. His name whispered in his ear and her smooth skin beneath his hands.

She falls asleep in his arms, and he barely sleeps, because he doesn't really want to miss a second of time with her.

When he drives her home in the morning, her dads don't think anything of it, they just assume the kids stayed at Santana's house.

He stays while she showers, talking to her dads while he waits, and he wonders how much crying is going to be happening in New York when these two men leave their little girl there.

Brian and Mark are in the car to give the 'kids' some privacy, and Puck has never loved them more (no homo). He pulls Rachel into a hug, and he can feel her shoulders shake just a little bit. He tells her to stop being such a girl, but it doesn't sound like as much of a joke as he wants it to. He kisses her hair, then her forehead, then the corner of her mouth before he lets her go.

They don't say any more words. He knows she'll call him when she's settled, and she knows he'll text her soon enough.

He stands there in her driveway with his hands in his pockets, and there isn't a lump in his throat as the car rounds the corner at the end of the street.

There _isn't_.

* * *

Her first night alone in New York (her dads stayed at a hotel for a night so they could really help her get settled) she lays in her little dorm room bed, jumping at every little sound. There's a deadbolt and a chain on her door, but every time she hears footsteps in the hall, she swears it's someone coming to break into her room. It's stupid. Most students haven't even arrived yet, just the drama and music majors.

It's nearly 12:30 when she decides to call Noah.

He laughs at her when she tells him she's freaking out.

"But you were always home alone here," he reminds her.

"This is different," she insists. She doesn't say it, but it might just be because she had him to call if she got too spooked.

"Well, since you're being a total baby about this, I'll talk to you for a while and take your mind off it," he says.

Okay, so maybe she still does have him to call if she gets too spooked.

She lays back in her bed, the covers pulled up high, and as happy as she is to be in New York, there's a part of her that wishes (and might always wish) that she was with him.

* * *

Puck and Finn's moms got together at the beginning of the summer and decided that it'd be cheaper if they rented the boys an apartment off-campus. Puck wasn't really sure about all that, since rent isn't cheap and they have to pay for food and all that. He thinks it's probably just their moms' way of keeping them from slacking off in dorm rooms and whatever. But he doesn't really care, since the apartment is pretty awesome, and it's not too far away from campus.

Finn gets there a couple days before Puck, since he has a couple more days of work to squeeze in (which meant a few hundred more dollars in his pocket). When he arrives at the apartment, it's kind of a disaster, but it's pretty cool. They've got some furniture, mostly second hand, but it all seems to match (_moms_, he thinks) and despite the fact that there are boxes, both full and empty, laying around, the place is pretty nice.

It's not huge, just two bedrooms, a little kitchen, and a living room, but it's all they need. Finn is going on about the things in the neighbourhood as Puck unpacks his things, then they sip a couple beers together, celebrating their first night in their place.

When he's alone in his room, getting ready for bed, he reaches for his bag and pulls out a few things. A picture of his family, a picture of the New Directions at Nationals (shut up, he's proud of it). And a picture of he and Rachel.

That one goes in the center of his dresser, right across from his bed. He texts her to say he's settled. Even if his bedroom is a disaster and they can barely walk through the apartment, his room feels pretty comfortable now.

* * *

It surprises Rachel how easily she fits in. The people in her classes think she's insanely talented and smart, and _funny_, which is strange, because people are usually laughing at her, not with her. Some of the jokes she makes are repeated, ones Noah has told before, but they don't need to know that and neither does he. She thinks he'd kind of love it, though, if he knew. He'd probably take it as an honour.

But it's not even the students she knows from her classes. There are a few girls and a couple guys on her floor who she's been growing closer too. They're all in different courses, and they all have different interests, but for some reason, they all seem to get along really well. The guys think it's hilarious that Rachel's such a huge baseball fan (and she has a photo of she and Noah behind home plate at Progressive Field sitting on her bedside table). They get together and watch games, and her friend Evan is actually from Cleveland, so they have a standing date for any televised Indians games.

The girls go shopping or listen to music, and no one rolls their eyes when Rachel's contributions to their listening parties include Streisand or the soundtrack to Rent or Tommy. They all actually think it's amazing that she's so interested and versed in musical theater, and when they hear her sing for the first time (she's rehearsing for one of her classes, and all the practice rooms on campus were occupied, so she's forced to use her dorm room) they're kind of blown away and they fawn over her like she's the already the star she's desperate to be.

When she tells Noah all this, he actually laughs at her.

"What?" she asks. "Why are you laughing!?"

"Berry, everyone likes you," he says. "Everyone's always liked you." She scoffs and rolls her eyes, though she knows he can't see. "Okay, maybe not everyone and maybe not always, but it's not so crazy that people actually wanna hang out with you."

"But it is though!"

"You're fuckin' nuts," he says. It doesn't really bother her anymore when he says it, because it's something he's told her at least five hundred times since they started talking sophomore year. "You don't give yourself enough credit. I mean, your best friend is the biggest stud in McKinley history..."

She's laughing now, and he's glad she doesn't say something about him calling her his best friend. Or himself her best friend. Whatever.

The truth is, he doesn't know what the fuck they are, because they've slept together a handful of times, and they were practically dating (alright, so without the kissing and all that, but they hung out_ all the time_) in the summer. Their goodbye was all emotional and intense.

And he misses her like fucking _crazy_.

"It's just nice not to have to explain myself and my motives. I don't have to defend my goals to anyone," she says seriously.

"You never did," he tells her. "You just thought you did."

There's a beat of silence and she smiles as she sits back in her desk chair. "Noah, are you getting all philosophical on me?"

(She's been teasing him for weeks because he chose philosophy as his elective; he actually thinks it's kind of awesome.)

"Whatever."

"It's just nice. This is the first time I've ever made real friends," she says quietly, like she's embarrassed or something.

"Second, babe. I was the first," he insists. He's not sure it's entirely true, but fuck it. Finn was a shitty friend, way back in the beginning, and she's admitted that herself. (The guy toyed with her emotions and stuff, which Puck thinks is pretty shitty.)

She giggles and he smiles (he loves that sound, and he doesn't care who knows). "Yeah, you kind of were."

* * *

This choir and Finn are in is basically their college's version of a glee club, only their director isn't nearly as cool as Mr. Schue and their female lead isn't nearly as good as Rachel.

Being in the choir gives them the appearance of being both talented and sensitive, and they play rec football, and they have their own place off campus, and they both have their own cars.

Basically? They each have their pick of girls, and could probably have a few at the same time if they wanted. But Finn's too nice for that, and Puck's a little invested in someone else. Finn goes on a couple dates, but nothing ever really goes past making out on the couch (which Puck thinks is fucking weird, because, hello, they have _bedrooms_ for a reason and he wants to watch some fucking Sportscenter).

He doesn't know how it's really possible, but Finn's never questioned Puck's relationship with Rachel. He thinks it's pretty obvious that they aren't 'just friends', but Finn hasn't noticed that, apparently. Puck doesn't really know what would happen if Finn found out. Sure, he was okay when he found out about them making out a couple summers ago, but as far as them having actual feelings for each other (Puck doesn't, can't, ignore it anymore) Puck doesn't know how all that'd go over.

But then, he and Rachel still haven't talked about anything, not seriously. He makes jokes about her sneaking into his bedroom and undressing, or him making her a prom night cliché, and she always squeals his name. He can practically hear her blushing over the phone line, and she tells him to stop trying to make her uncomfortable.

One night in October, she calls him, not at all expecting him to answer. They haven't spoken in a few days, and it's a Saturday night. She assumed he'd be out, and she'd just leave him a voicemail, and then she'd tuck into her bed and watch a movie or something. Her friends are all out for the evening, but she was too tired to go out.

"What are you doing home?" she asks when he answers and it's quiet, just his voice on the line.

"I have a midterm on Tuesday. Stayed home to study."

"Really?" she asks.

"Don't sound so surprised," he laughs. She should know by now that he actually puts effort into his schooling. She should know because she started forcing him to do it junior year. And he's pretty smart, actually. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing. I was invited to an underground club to watch some live techno DJ that Jamie knows, but it didn't seem like behaviour becoming a budding young starlet."

She rarely ever talks like this anymore. It makes him smile. "Yeah, skunked beer and tabs of E isn't really your scene."

"You think there would have been drugs there?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah. Definitely," he says with a laugh. She can be so naive sometimes. He likes to tell her she'd be lost without him. Maybe that's just wishful thinking on his part. "So you're just sitting around on a Saturday night? Pretty lame, Berry."

"Says the bookworm." She burrows down into her bed a little more. "It's so cold in my room, Noah. I had to buy an extra blanket for my bed. Of course, I had to get the only room on the floor without its own temperature control."

"Sucks," he mumbles.

He closes his book and sets it aside, then lays back against his pillows. Finn's out, Rachel's all alone. It's nearly midnight, and frankly, he's been pretty distracted lately. He hasn't had sex since the night before she left. (And that's his choice. It's not like he hasn't had opportunities, just hasn't taken advantage of them). And right now, her sweet voice coming through the phone line and telling him she's cold? That doesn't help.

"Yes, it's certainly not optimal."

"I know how to warm you up," he says with a smirk. He really doesn't think she'll go for it, but if not, he can at least play it off as a joke and she won't think anything of it.

"Really? Because I'll try almost anything at this point," she says. She almost sounds excited, and he tries not to laugh.

"Mhmm," he says. "What're you wearing?"

"Noah!" she gasps. She doesn't know why, but she glances towards her door to make sure it's locked.

"What?"

"Are you...you're being serious," she states, more than asks.

"C'mon. You know it'd make you all hot," he says. His tone has dropped a little, and he smiles when he hears her take a breath.

"I'd rather be cold, thank you. I can't do that. I won't. And I'd be terrible at it anyway," she tells him. She's really trying to stand firm on this, but she's picturing him in his apartment (what? he sent photos...) and thinking about how much she misses him.

He grins and shakes his head. It was worth a try. "Probably for the best. You talk so much that I'd be asleep before you even told me you had your bra off."

He means it as a joke. She doesn't pick up on that. Or she really is naive.

"I'm not wearing a bra," she says without thinking. She blushes immediately and clasps her hand over her mouth. "You didn't hear that."

"Oh, I heard it," he says, laughing softly. "And you're already better at this than you think."

"Noah..."

"Okay, if you're not gonna do this, then we've gotta change the subject, because you saying my name like that isn't helping," he tells her bluntly. There's complete silence for a moment, and he wonders if he's taken it too far, because despite the fact that they've slept together and they really don't have any secrets, he still knows she's not one to engage in dirty talk. (What? He's had enough experience with her to know that. And she's probably blushing right now.) "Rach?"

She bites her thumb nail (nervous habit) and remembers that she has no reason to be shy, since they've obviously engaged in similar activities alone. And the memory of that is what has her holding the phone a little closer and switching off her bedside lamp.

"Promise not to make fun of me?" Her voice is all soft and quiet, and she knows that there's no going back now. She's just agreed to it. She's already warmer. "This is my first time," she adds needlessly (or maybe because she just knows he'll love hearing her say it).

His heart races, and he knows he's grinning like an idiot, but _fuck yes_! "I promise, babe."

He doesn't make fun of her. He doesn't need to.

He thinks she's probably amazing at absolutely everything she does.

Before hanging up the phone (she's still breathing heavily through the line, telling him she's about to fall asleep like she always does; 'post-performance high' he calls it, and she never corrects him) he asks her how long it is until Thanksgiving. She asks why, and he tells her he's not fucking letting her out of his sight.

* * *

True to his word, they're pretty much attached at the hip when they both return to Lima for the long weekend. She actually gets a cheap flight to Columbus and he picks her up at the airport so they can drive home together. Since no one knows them and he doesn't give a fuck anyway, he kisses her at the arrivals gate, and she laughs and breathes out his name and looks around. She sits all pressed up against him in his truck on the way to Lima, her arm linked through his, and she doesn't know what's going on between them, but it feels like a really big deal.

He spends one night at her house. His mom doesn't notice, and hers are in bed when he shows up, and they kiss their entire way up the stairs to her bedroom, and she whispers I missed you's against his skin, and he honestly thinks he's going crazy with needing her.

The only time they really spend apart are their actual Thanksgiving dinners, and when Rachel's daddy asks her what's really going on with her and Noah, she blushes and smiles and can't help but admit to them for the first time that it's more than just a friendship. Her dads both smile and nod like they've known it all along.

When Puck picks her up to drive back to Columbus, he's got his hands in his pockets as he waits for her after dropping her things in the back of his truck. He watches her hug her dads, and then they hug him (he's kind of getting used to it by this point) and they're on their way.

The drive is too quiet, and she looks out the window. She's not sitting close to him, not holding his hand or anything, and the radio station is annoying him so he switches it off before they even get onto the highway.

It's forty minutes of silence before she looks over at him and asks, "are you sleeping with anyone?" When he smiles and turns to her, she adds, "besides me."

"No," he says seriously, like it's something she should already know. Given his high school reputation, he supposes he can't blame her for checking. "You better fucking not be either."

She laughs and moves towards him a little bit more, and kisses his cheek, her hand running through what little hair he has at the back of his neck. "Just you," she almost whispers.

He doesn't know if that means they're dating, or if she's his girlfriend, but he knows it's really complicated, because she's living in another state and all that. But her being his girlfriend wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Actually, he thinks it might be the best.

* * *

Finn catches on (it's only taken the guy like, a fucking year) and asks Puck what's going on with him and Rachel.

They're just walking through the door after spending some time at the gym, and Puck turns to face his friend. He doesn't really know what to say, but he doesn't want to lie either (see? he's growing) so he shrugs his shoulders and says he doesn't know.

Telling your best friend that you're having an undefined, exclusive, long-distance relationship with his ex would be pretty weird.

"You don't know? And she's okay with that?" Finn asks knowingly. They both know Rachel isn't really up for the grey area. She wants everything in black and white, or preferably, in technicolour.

"We don't really talk about it," Puck admits. "But...I like her, man. And she must like me too."

"Yeah, I got that part," Finn says with a smile.

"Whatever. Don't bug me about it."

"I'm not bugging you. I'm just curious. And also maybe wondering, why Rachel?" Finn asks.

Puck shoots him a glare. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's just that she's my ex. And she's not your type. And you don't have much in common. Plus, there's that whole thing about you wanting to set yourself on fire when you were around her."

"That was fucking sophomore year, dude. And who cares if she's your ex?" Puck says defensively. It's clear that Finn either doesn't know Rachel, or doesn't know Puck. Or maybe he just doesn't know what they're like when they're together. "Whatever. Fuck it. I'm into her, and she's into me. It's no one else's fucking business."

He walks to his room and pulls off his shirt, throwing it towards the hamper, but missing completely. He wishes he hadn't just come from the gym, because wailing on a punching bag would be pretty awesome right now. Mostly because he can read between the lines of Finn's perpetually choppy sentences and see that he was basically saying Rachel's too good for Puck.

And she might be. But he's not about to point that out to anyone, and he's not going to let anyone else say it either.

He wonders if she really is psychic or something (he's always made fun of her for that, because really? just no), because she calls him at that exact moment, and he sighs before he answers the phone.

"What's wrong?" she asks upon hearing him.

(Okay, so maybe there's a little truth to her being able to sense things).

"Nothing."

"Noah," she laughs. "I would have thought you'd know by now that you can't lie to me. I'd appreciate if you told me what's the matter."

"Finn just asked me about us," he says, flopping back on his bed. "He basically said you're too good for me."

"Oh," she says quietly. He doesn't know what she means by that. "Well, it's clear that he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about, then, isn't it?" He actually smiles. She never even says the 'h' word (as she calls it...god, she's a dork) and she's just used it now, getting all defensive of him and their relationship. "And since when do you care about what anyone else thinks anyway?"

"He's not just anybody else. He's my boy. He should support me," he tells mer. "I mean, it's fucked up, sure, because you two were...at one point..." She starts laughing. "What?"

"You can't even say it."

He sighs in frustration and rolls his eyes. "I don't want to think about you with anyone else, okay?"

"Okay," she says softly. She actually thinks that's pretty sweet of him to say. "Noah."

"Yeah?"

"I don't care what Finn says, or what anyone else says. I like you, and I want you. Is that enough for you?" she asks. She makes it sound like she isn't entirely sure, which he thinks is just insane, because she has to know that's fucking _perfect_ for him.

"Yeah, Berry," he says quietly. "That's enough for me."

* * *

Her first Christmas home (_Hanukkah_, he corrects her, but he's sitting at her kitchen table with a mouthful of bacon, so she just rolls her eyes at him) she spends three whole weeks with her dads and her friends and Noah.

All the original 'gleeks' visit Mr. Schue at the school and watch a rehearsal he has with his new group, though some of the members are now seniors or juniors and were in the group the year before. Rachel walks the halls of the high school and comments on how it feels like it was a million years ago that she was there.

Her friends comment that she looks amazing, even more sure of herself (just in a less scary way, Kurt says) and somehow more laid back. They all swap stories about their schools and their friends, and Puck smiles at Rachel when no one else is looking. Other than Finn, no one else really knows that anything is going on. Quinn might, since it was always kind of the four of them that were the closest, but she doesn't say anything until she and Rachel are alone.

And then she presses for details and begs for information, and Rachel tells Quinn about prom night and the summer and Thanksgiving, and Quinn is practically giddy. (When Rachel tells Noah this, he says it's 'fucked' that Quinn is so gung-ho about Rachel banging her ex. Rachel's jaw drops and she swats his chest, and he just laughs and wraps her into his arms.)

The Berry's have the Puckermans over for dinner on Christmas Eve. They have a bunch of traditional Jewish food that Rachel's dads make, and Hannah wins over Brian and Mark in approximately two seconds. The six of them eat and drink and laugh, and Rachel takes Noah's hand beneath the table, and he can tell that she's really excited that their families are getting along.

Not bad for two people who aren't even officially a couple.

That changes the next day.

They're laying in his bed together (she came over for breakfast, but they have yet to eat...and that was two hours ago) and she's laying on her stomach, her cheek resting on her arm, and he's laying on his side, facing her. He's running his hand through her hair, and they're just kind of looking at one another, and if anyone saw him right now, they wouldn't believe how delicate he is with her. He doesn't give a fuck what anyone else thinks, though.

"I like your hair," he says. (Okay, so if anyone heard that and made a comment, he'd probably throw some hands.)

She laughs and lets herself enjoy the way he twirls a lock of her hair around his finger. "Thank you. Your hair is...unique."

He scoffs and pulls back from her a little bit. "Dude, my hair is fucking sweet."

"Don't call me _dude_, and watch your language."

He laughs this time, and she shifts a little bit, so she's on her side and holding the sheets to her chest. "C'mon. You've gotta be used to my dirty mouth by now."

"I'm fairly certain, judging by your tone, that you mean that in several ways, most of which I'm not going to address," she says. She's smiling, and he leans forward to kiss her. "I have learned to deal with your less than stellar vocabulary choices. That doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."

"Sure it does," he insists. He grins at her, and she's looking at him questioningly. She knows him well enough to know that this particular grin means something. "My girlfriend has to be able to enjoy a good fuck every now and again."

Her jaw drops again, and he laughs as he pulls her against his chest. When he glances down at her, her face is beet red. She looks so, _so_ cute that he just pulls her closer and kisses the top of her head before she can tell him not to embarrass her like that.

"You called me your girlfriend," she says, her voice all muffled against his chest.

"Yeah."

She pulls away and brushes the hair from her face (the sheet falls a little bit and Noah takes a deep breath before covering her up again; this is a serious conversation and he can't be distracted by her sexy nakedness.) "I'm your girlfriend?"

She's wearing this adorable little smile, one that makes him wonder whether or not she's gonna start crying, or kissing him. "Yeah, you're my girlfriend. What the hell did you think you were?"

"I don't know," she laughs. "You've never called me that. You only ever call me Berry, or babe. Or dude, apparently." He rolls his eyes and she kisses him, then lifts the sheet up so it's covering both their torsos and she's pressed up against him. "I think I'm going to like being called your girlfriend."

* * *

She's working on her role as lead in a school play, and she can't get home for spring break. He can't afford to, and doesn't really have the time to, go to New York, so he works his ass off while he's off from school (he's got a job at a local sporting goods store, and he's giving guitar lessons to snotty little kids whose parents'll pay him $25 an hour to practically babysit). He figures if he can save up enough money now, he might be able to take a long weekend or something and go see her.

He hates the distance. Absolutely hates it. It's stupid, really, because it's not even that far, but it's too far to make regular visits. He's never even seen where she lives, except the pictures she's sent him. But that's not the same as seeing it in person or laying in bed with her lazily like they've only gotten to do a couple times.

It's not that he regrets the way things have happened, really. He knows that they waited for a reason. Or at least that's what she says. He tells her they just took forever to get their shit together. Of course, she's just a little more eloquent when she reminds him that they never would have worked if they'd gotten together sooner.

He spends a crazy amount of time thinking about her.

Like, pretty much all of it.

They text constantly throughout the day, and she'll send him pictures of herself in all these New York places that he now knows from spending time with her there. Ones of her in Central Park (at the exact spot where the drank wine and watched the sun come up) and on the steps of the library. There's one of her, taken by one of her friends, walking through the snow, her hair blowing around her face as she laughs and carries a Starbucks cup. He's got that one set as the background on his phone. (Whatever. She looks hot.)

He thinks about her when he's performing and his crazy choir director tells them to _feel_ it, not just _sing_ it. Of course, he doesn't tell anyone, not even Rachel, that he thinks about her when he has to sing cheesy love songs.

And that's the thing, isn't it?

He didn't _fall_ in love with her. He just _is_ in love with her.

If anyone ever asked him when it happened, he'd tell them he has no fucking idea. It's just there, and maybe it's been there for a long time and he ignored it. He doesn't know. He knows nothing about love. Like, at all. But he knows, somehow, that he loves her.

And he's not going to say it for the first time over the fucking _phone_.

* * *

When he's asked (since he's fucking kicking ass in his classes) to intern on weekends in the athletic trainers' office on campus, his plans to get away and see his girl take a back seat. She understands and reminds him that they have a whole summer coming up to spend time together, but he knows she's as disappointed as he is. Which he's actually happy about. Because maybe that means that she feels the same way about him and he won't look like a fucking loser if he tells her he loves her, because there's a better chance that she'll say it back.

He's supposed to be studying for finals, and he is, but he's taking a break. He can hear Finn's industrial sized bag of Skittles rattling from the living room (the guy like, lives on Skittles when he's studying). He grabs his guitar and starts playing kind of lazily, just to give his brain something to focus on other than the muscles of the human leg and all the potential ways they could be injured, and how to remedy said injuries. A few simple chord progressions are the perfect mindless task to make him feel better and calm him down.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone rings. He was sure he turned the thing off, but apparently not. He's about to grab it and tell whoever's calling to fuck off, but he sees _Rachel_ (no longer _Berry_) flash across the screen and his anger dissipates. They'd agreed not to call one another until Saturday, since she writes her last final on Friday and he writes his last one on Monday.

"Hey babe," he says easily as he answers. She's sniffling and stuff. Shit. "What's wrong?"

She's seriously hysterical. He tries to understand what she's saying, and he can make out the words _can't_, _trying_, _studying_, _stupid_, _failure_, _flunk_, and _hate me if I worked at Starbucks? _and so he gets the gist.

"Rachel, slow down," he says calmly. "Take a deep breath before you fucking pass out."

(He's supportive, he is, but it's in his own way, and that way includes bluntness and cursing.)

She does as he tells her. (He's surprised too.) "I just...it's _hard_, Noah. Studying isn't helping, and I can't...I _can't_."

"Berry, you've been kicking ass all year," he reminds her. "You're going to be fine. You're just freaking out for no reason."

"But this semester, with the play and everything, I just feel like I've been distracted, and I can't...What if I fail?" She starts crying again, and he rolls his eyes, because even after all this time, the amount of insanity in this one little person is fucking mind blowing.

"You're not going to fail. I know you, babe. You're probably more prepared than anyone else in that whole fucking school," he says. She lets out a teary laugh (see, she _does_ like a good 'fuck' every now and again). "Okay?"

"You're smart sometimes," she says lightly.

"I have some moments." She takes another deep breath and he strums his guitar lazily. "You alright now, or should I expect another call from you in like, a half hour, asking me if I'll still love you if you end up pouring coffee for a living?" There's complete silence on the other end of the line, and he thinks she might be crying again or something. "Rach?"

"Love me?" He drops his phone onto his guitar, which lets out a horrible sound, and he swears that if he had the ability, he'd kick his own fucking ass. He's _such_ an idiot. He grabs his phone and holds it to his ear. She must be able to hear his breathing. "Noah?"

He could do one of two things. He could own up to it like a man and tell her that yes, he loves her, and doesn't she know that already? Or he could brush it off as a slip of the tongue and tell her he'll talk to her on the weekend and see her when they're both home in Lima on Wednesday.

Because he's the biggest jackass in the universe, he of course does the stupid thing.

"You know what I mean," he says, kind of scoffing.

"Right. Yeah," she says, and she's using that stage voice she has for when she's putting on a brave face and trying not to make it seem like she's disappointed.

So he tells her he loves her for the first time by accident, and then he takes it back.

Boyfriend of the _fucking_ year.

* * *

Their conversations are strained. They don't talk again until the Saturday they'd originally planned to speak, and even then, it's just for 10 minutes. She tells him that she freaked out over nothing, and he laughs and tells her that of course she did. Then she says that she'll let him go, because she knows he's got to study. (And he's pretty sure that's code for, _"You kind of broke my heart, you fucking moron, and it's hard for me to talk to you,"_ but then he remembers that she doesn't curse, so maybe it's in his head.)

She doesn't know why _he's_ the one acting so strange. She's the one whose boyfriend reneged on his I love you, or whatever that was, and she's the one left wondering why he doesn't love her. Or if he does, why he won't just say it. And which of those two things is worse?

She texts him a good luck on Monday, when she's waiting for her dads to arrive and help her with her things, then drive back to Ohio. Noah's reply is a curt 'thanks', and she doesn't hear from him again for three days.

When he calls her, she ignores the ringing of her phone (The Acafellas singing I Wanna Sex You Up, because he thought it was funny and appropriate) and decides to take a nap. She doesn't think she's ignored a call from him in over a year.

* * *

Puck can deal with_ a lot_ of shit where Rachel is concerned.

He can listen to her go on and on for literally fucking _hours_ about absolutely nothing, because she's kind of cute when she gets all rambly, and every once in a while, he'll stop her to ask what a word means and actually learn something.

He can deal with her crazy goals and dreams about being in whatever play or musical.

He understands her need to be _the best_ at absolutely everything she even attempts.

He knows that he can only ever buy her red roses after a performance (yeah, he sent her flowers after her play opened; whatever) because nothing else is appropriate for a boyfriend to give a girlfriend.

He even deals with her fucking pure _insanity_ when she's (quote) crampy and miserable. (Like, seriously, she'll call him and complain for 20 minutes about how the dining hall doesn't have blueberry danishes, and all she wants _in the whole world_ is a blueberry danish. _That_ crazy.)

What he can't handle? The fucking silent treatment.

It's the summer. They're supposed to have fun and make out (etc.) like they always do in the summer, and they're supposed to actually be a couple, like they haven't been able to do yet.

And okay, he isn't a moron. He knows why she's being all distant and moody with him, and he can't really blame her, because yeah, he acted like an idiot. But if she'd just talk to him and let him explain, he'd tell her how he wants it to be special (fuck, he sounds like a tool) and he wants to be able to see her and kiss her when he tells her that he loves her.

He knows what time her dads lave for work in the morning, so he pulls into the driveway and asks if Rachel's home. They look at him kind of weird, like he should know that, since she's his girlfriend. He just gives them this pathetic (he knows it), sheepish look, and they tell him to head in. He's surprised they let him, since he'll obviously be alone with Rachel. He figures that either means that they aren't naive enough to think that he and Rachel aren't having sex, or they know that Rachel's mad enough that she won't be letting him anywhere near her.

He doesn't know which of those scenarios is worse. (Though, he can admit that if they know he's sleeping with their daughter and they don't want to kick his ass, that's pretty cool.)

He walks into the house and up the stairs, and he's so _nervous_. Like, he has butterflies in his stomach or something, which sucks, because what the hell is that all about? But he hasn't seen her since Christmas/Hanukkah, and he wishes he wasn't such an idiot, so he'd just be able to kiss her senseless and get her naked and say hello that way.

He pushes the door to her room open, and there she is, laying there with her hair in a ponytail and the covers pulled up around her. He can see the strap of her light pink camisole and her bare shoulder, and even that is enough to make his head swim with how much he wants her.

He smiles when she groans a little bit and burrows against the pillow.

"Daddy, I said I'll get up. Just go," she says sleepily.

There's a joke about her calling him daddy, and it's sitting right there on the tip of his tongue, but he can't do it.

Shit, he's evolving.

He sits down at the edge of the bed and leans over to kiss her bare shoulder, and she turns her head to look at him. He's smiling at her, hoping it's an _I-know-you're-pissed-at-me-but-look-how-hot-I-am-and-didn't-you-miss-me?_ smile.

It must not be. She rolls over again and doesn't say anything.

Rachel? Not talking? _Unnerving_. This is why he hates it.

"Hi," he says quietly. Nothing. "I know you're the queen of the silent treatment, but you wanna maybe talk to me since we haven't seen each other in six months?"

"I'm tired."

It's a piss-poor excuse and they both know it. So he smirks and lays down next to her with his hands clasped over his stomach.

"Well, I hope you can sleep with me laying here talking about my drive home." He thinks he hears her let out a huff (probably pissed that he's stealing her move). "First, I had to load some stuff into my truck, 'cause, you know, I had stuff to bring back that I'd need this summer. Like my guitar and some clothes and whatever, _obviously_. Then I had to stop for a burger before I hit the road, because that's practically, like, tradition. Then when I got on the highway I put on some Kings Of Leon. You know how good they are? Really awesome. They're probably my favourite band right now. Or maybe Them Crooked Vultures, but the Kings have a bigger body of work, so, you know, they might win out..."

"I hate you," she mumbles into her pillow. He wants to laugh, but it'd probably make her angrier. "I just wanna sleep."

"I just wanna sleep with you," he says, careful to make sure that it doesn't sound like an innuendo.

She rolls over and grabs his hand, pulling him towards her, and he smiles as he presses himself up against her, draping his arm over her. He'd rather be under the covers with her, but he'll take what he can get.

She lets out this little quasi-purring sound that he's sure she doesn't intend for him to hear, and he nuzzles against her neck a little bit.

"I missed you, Berry," he admits, because it's true.

She takes a deep breath, but doesn't really respond. "Sleep."

"Are you mad at me?" he asks quietly, his lips grazing the hinge of her jaw.

"No."

"Do you really hate me?" He's smiling, and he's sure she knows it. She weaves her fingers together with his, and he thinks that's a good answer, even if she doesn't speak.

"No," she repeats. He breathes out a sigh of relief, and he doesn't care if she feels it against her skin. He wants her to know that he doesn't want to make her mad or upset or anything. And that even if it's too late for that, she can forgive him and stuff. "I'm just...disappointed."

Well, fuck. That's even worse.

"I'm sorry." It's a whisper, and she feels it more than she hears it. His breath is on her skin, his lips nearly touching her, and it's really hard to stay strong when he's doing this. She knows that's exactly what he wants and why he's doing it. "Babe?"

"Noah, can you please just...stop that?" she asks. She wants to believe his apology, but she doesn't even know if he understands what he's apologizing for. "Ideally, I'd like another hour of sleep. We'll talk after. Can you respect that?"

If he ever made her heart hurt as much as his does now, he hates himself. But he says, "okay," because at least she's not kicking him out, and she's still holding his hand, and she's letting him lay there with her.

He doesn't know how she can just fall asleep. They're fighting (or something) and they haven't seen one another in months. She's barely even looked at him. He wonders how upset she really is. That's the problem with dating a girl with acting skills; sometimes you can't tell what the fuck she's really feeling. If Rachel wants to hide things, it's very likely that he won't find them until she decides he should. He seriously hopes that's not what she's doing now, because the thought of losing her, even a little bit, even taking a step backwards, is just about killing him.

He lays awake and feels her breathing. He toys with her hair a little bit, like he always does, and when she lets out a little mewl, he thinks he's woken her, but she just shifts a little and melts against him some more in her sleep.

As he lays awake with her sleeping next to him, he comes to the conclusion that if she was going to break up with him, she wouldn't be letting him do this. And yeah, she'd probably hate him and have no problem saying it.

He tries to come up with a game plan, what he's going to say to her, and how he's going to make this right. He'd just lead with I love you, but he doesn't want to let her give him any bullshit excuse, like he's just saying it because he wants their fight to be over. When he says it, it'll be because he means it. Basically, he's fucked himself over. How does he apologize for fucking it up in the first place, when he can't say the words without her freaking out about him not meaning them? A smarter guy would have just said them on the phone in the first place, because even that would have been better than this whole fucking situation.

"Stop staring," he hears after a while. He's been there a little over an hour, and she's been sleeping almost as long.

And yeah, he's staring. What can he say? His girl is hot.

"Sorry."

She laughs a little and the sound makes him crazy. "No you're not," she argues. She knows him too well.

"Not really," he admits. He leans over and kisses her temple. His one arm is completely asleep, and his hand is hot from her holding it so tightly, but there's no way in hell he's going to complain about any of that. "You're beautiful."

He rarely says anything like that. Like, pretty much never, actually. That doesn't mean it's not true or that he doesn't believe it, he's just not one for the sweet words. Well, that's not true either. It's just that his idea of what's sweet is different from most peoples'. Telling her she looks hot as hell in a pair of jeans is pretty much as sweet as it gets.

She must notice, because she rolls over onto her back and looks at him. She's not wearing any makeup, and her hair's a mess from the pillow. Her cheeks are red from sleep, and her sheets have left lines on her skin. But he stands by his initial statement.

"I look like I've been traveling for months, Noah, with no sleep and very little water. I had to pack my whole room myself, and somehow I accumulated a lot of stuff over the year in New York. I don't know how that is, but I came home with much more than I left with. I think my wardrobe doubled, actually, and only a small portion of that is stage clothes. I look like I need to sleep for three years," she says. He's smiling at her, like no matter how much she talks or what she tells him, he's still going to insist that she's gorgeous. Her heart flutters a little bit with the way he's looking at her. "But thank you."

He winks.

She wishes he loved her like she loves him.

"You're welcome."

She sits up so she's cross-legged, which doesn't help him, because the blankets fall away and she's wearing just these little tiny underwear/short-type things that match her tank top. Then she tugs the elastic from her hair before pulling it up again and fastening it into a tiny ponytail.

If he's not getting laid within the next hour, he's going to be in some serious misery.

Not that that's all he came for.

"Okay. I'm ready for your apology, Noah," she says seriously. His girl is seriously a freak. She prepares for her conversations like they're stage productions. He looks at her for a moment, then her shoulders fall. "That is why you came over, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah," he says. He sits up, too, because if he's laying on his back any longer, he's just going to grab her and _show_ her how he feels, and he's pretty sure she needs to hear the words.

"Well?"

"Jesus, woman, give me a damn second," he mumbles. She punches his arm and they're smiling at one another. "So, I'm sorry."

She stares at him, blinking in disbelief, for a few moments. "That's it? Do you even know what you're apologizing for?"

"Don't pull that chick shit with me, Rachel. We both know why I'm apologizing," he says. She just crosses her arms (he honestly can't help it when his eyes fall to her chest; it's her own fault). "You've been pissed at me for like, two weeks. I'm sick of it."

"So that's why you're apologizing?" she asks, her brow raised.

He knows she's right. He should be spelling it all out for her, but he's pretty fucking embarrassed actually, and he's never been good at this stuff. "I'm apologizing because I upset you that day...on the phone. And I shouldn't have done that." She kind of half-smiles at him, so he think she's on the right track. He stands up and moves away from her, because he _knows_ he's going to kiss her if he doesn't. "Sometimes I just say stupid shit. You know that."

Her face falls. Shit, shit, shit. What'd he do wrong!?

"Yes, your admission of love probably _was_ stupid. I don't know why I so badly wanted to believe it," she says coldly.

"Rachel."

"I mean, we've only been together for months and been friends for years."

She stands up and turns her back on him, shuffling some papers on her desk. (So what if he looks at her ass? It's barely covered right now, and that's not his fault.) But she's seriously upset, and he can't blame her.

He needs to_ fix this _somehow.

"Look, I didn't..."

"Oh, my gosh, Noah," she sighs, turning around to face him. "I get it. You didn't mean it." She wraps her arms around herself, and when he steps towards her, she takes a step back. "It's completely unnecessary for you to beat me over the head with it. I just can't even begin to understand why you'd say the words in the first place."

She looks so sad and hurt and everything, and he hates it, but he's also kind of pissed because she won't let him talk this out. So he figures he'll take a more direct approach and make her listen.

"Because I _do_ fucking love you!" he shouts.

Her hands drop to her sides and she looks at him, tears swimming in her pretty eyes, and he runs his hand over his head. "What?" she breathes out.

"I just thought...I didn't want it to be like that. I thought you'd want something...fucking..._special_ or something. Like flowers and candles and fucking Mariah Carey playing in the background or some shit," he says in frustration.

He does _not_ love it when she starts laughing.

"You're an _idiot_," she says, wiping at her eyes. "Honestly. My boyfriend is the stupidest man in the world. I don't know how I ended up with someone so dense."

"Okay, are you trying to kick me in the balls? Because that's what you're doing," he says hotly, glaring at her. "Fuck, Rachel, you know I suck at all this. Talking. And feelings. And fucking...being a boyfriend, and..."

"Noah, shut up," she insists. She walks towards him and he refuses to look at her, so she rests her hands on his face and forces him to. "Do you love me?"

"I just fucking said..."

"Noah," she says calmly, "_do you love me_?"

He sighs and grits his teeth before noticing how soft her eyes are, how smooth her hands are on his skin. "Yes. I love you."

She smiles and kind of bites her lip, and he can't decide if he's turned on or pissed or both. "Really?"

"Christ, Rach! How many times do you need me to say it?" he asks, pulling away from her. "I love you. I don't even _know_ how long I've been in love with you. A fucking _long_ time. You're this crazy, annoying...perfect girl, and, yeah, I love you. Alright?"

She launches herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, and he's glad the bed is behind him, because he stumbles and falls backwards, then he's laying on his back with Rachel on top of him, kissing his face all over.

What the _fuck_ just happened?

She pulls away a little, rubbing his earlobes slowly between her thumbs and forefingers (seriously, she's driving him insane right now). She's looking at him, and her eyes look so amazing that he can't look away. She's all warm against him, and she's obviously happy, and he doesn't think he's ever felt better.

"Noah, I love you too," she says quietly.

(Now he feels better.)

"So you decided to attack me?" he teases.

She kisses him and nips at his bottom lip. "You're an idiot," she repeats. He actually smiles as he grips her hips. "You're _lucky_ I love you."

She pulls her shirt off, then leans down to kiss him again, so he gets distracted and doesn't get a chance to tell her that he knows exactly how lucky he is.

* * *

The fourth of July, _their_ fireworks trump the rest of the festivities. All their friends laugh at them, since they've never seen the two of them as a proper couple, and all they do is fight all day. He's wearing a white tee shirt and jeans, and apparently, that's not festive enough. So that fight takes up the entire morning and into the afternoon, until he says something about not really wanting to go to the fairgrounds, and she tells him it's tradition and he has to come, whether he likes it or not. Tina laughs when Puck sighs and lets her grab at his hand. He thinks he hears Kurt say "whipped" but Puck ignores it because what the fuck does Kurt know about being in love with a chick as crazy as Rachel? Nothing, that's what.

Then he tells her she's crazy for not eating hot dogs (that's _his_ tradition, but it does nothing to sway her when he tells her that). She says something about processed meats or some shit, and then goes into detail on how hot dogs are actually made, and everyone cringes and puts their food down. Puck eats four, just to piss her off, and she says she's not kissing him for the rest of the day.

So he spends the rest of the day trying to make her kiss him.

That's when it starts getting fun.

He tries to sneak up on her, using their friends as distractions so he can try to get his lips on hers. But she squeals and hits him or shoves at him or runs away. She hides behind Finn, clutching his tee shirt, and everyone laughs because they realize just how weird it is for her to be using her ex-boyfriend as a shield from her current boyfriend.

They're watching a not-entirely-horrible band (and by that, Puck means to say _'they're not as awesome as me, but they don't suck either'_) in the evening. She's sipping a strawberry milkshake (he bought it for her and slyly reminded her that strawberry is his favourite) and talking to Quinn, laughing and dancing just a little bit. Kurt comes over and pulls Quinn away, insisting that she dance with him. It's a total ploy; Puck made a threat that they both knew was empty, but Kurt agreed anyway, because he admits he wants to see these two kiss, probably more than anyone else.

Puck walks up behind Rachel, winking at Artie as he passes (Artie's just shaking his head, because this whole game is ridiculous and just full of sexual tension, which he's pretty sure Rachel and Puck don't need anyway).

He doesn't touch her, but he gets right up close to her so that his breath is hitting her skin. She's got a bit of a glow, since it's hot and humid, and there're a few little beads of sweat above her brow that immediately make him think about a bunch of stuff he can't do with (to) her while they're in public. He knows she knows he's there. He can tell from the breath she takes and the way she sets her shoulders and straightens her posture.

"Just kiss me, babe. You know you want to," he says softly.

She turns around, slips her arm around his neck and presses her body up against his. His eyes go dark immediately, and she bites her bottom lip as she smiles up at him.

"Noah," she says. He honestly doesn't think she's ever been so sexy.

"Hmm?"

It takes everything in her not to laugh at him. He's so easy sometimes. "You're not going to win."

She pushes herself away from him and heads to the dance floor, and he's only reminded that they're around other people when Artie and Finn start laughing at him and Mercedes snaps her fingers and walks away, following Rachel.

She somehow convinces him to dance, and he doesn't really know how that happens, because she made it pretty clear that he won't be getting anything out of it. But then there's the sexy sway of her hips to Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin', and he's taking a deep breath, because every fucking man in the place is watching her, and he needs to make it perfectly clear that she's not to be messed with. And that he'll get fighty if they continue to stare at her like she's some kind of prize.

(She's _his_ prize, and he doesn't care how lame that makes him. Fuck it. He has her now, and he's not gonna make it a secret.)

So he rests his hands on her hips and she wraps hers around his shoulders, and he won't lie, it's kind of nice to just dance with her (shut up). The band launches into Open Arms right after, and Puck wonders if this is some kind of Journey tribute band or something, but he's distracted by Rachel softly singing the words to the song.

He kisses the palm of her hand before they rejoin their friends.

She borrows Kurt's hand sanitizer. Everyone laughs but Puck.

They're all spreading out sleeping bags or blankets on the grass of the field where the fireworks are going to be set off. He's taking a drink from a bottle of water when he catches her staring.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Kurt says dramatically. "Would you just _kiss_ her already?"

Puck laughs and wordlessly hands Kurt the half-full bottle of water. He walks over to where she's standing, trying not to look like she was just gazing at him like he's a fucking piece of meat (not that he minds).

He hooks his arm around her waist and pulls her against him, then his hand slips into her hair, and she doesn't even have time to protest before he leans her back a little bit and kisses her as best he knows how. (Which, for the record, is really fucking good.) Their friends whistle and clap (and mumble _finally_, and Finn hands Kurt a $10 bill) and Rachel's all dazed and red in the face when he pulls away.

"You didn't even try to stop me," he says with a laugh.

She kisses him again quickly, then leans up to speak in his ear. "Let's get out of here."

They wave in passing to their friends, neither of them caring if they're being rude.

She tells him she still wants to see the fireworks. She rolls her eyes when he roguishly suggests that, _oh, I'll make you see fireworks_. She laughs, but shakes her head and tells him to behave.

They end up at the football field, and she just smiles and scales the fence and acts like the teenager she doesn't feel like sometimes. He tosses over the blanket he keeps in his truck, then follows her.

They watch the fireworks, her sitting between his legs and his arms around her. Amid the boom and crack of the lights above, he kisses her temple and says, "love you," into her ear.

She'd bet money that she's never loved him more than right this second. And it's not because he's doing what she wants to do, or because he's being so sweet, or because he isn't cursing or making sexual references.

It's because he's being honest, completely truthful, and he's no longer the kind of boy (man) who wants to keep everything hidden. She likes to think she had something to do with that.

But when she finds herself beneath him, him settled between her legs as he kisses her and lays her back on the blanket, she certainly doesn't love him any less.

They make love on the 50 yard line, and she buries her head against his chest when he tells her that he's never had sex on the football field before, that she's his first.

* * *

He would really love it if how they started their summer set the tone for the rest of it.

But he's still a complete jerk sometimes, and she still drives him absolutely insane sometimes, and they're both such honest people that neither has a problem making all that known.

She practices like, _all. the. time_. She's back in dance classes, has a local acting coach, and though she doesn't have a personal trainer, she commits herself to working out at least 40 minutes a day.

And if he interrupts any of this, god _forbid_, he swears sometimes he's scared for his health. The thing is, with all this shit she does, sometimes he feels like she doesn't have time for him.

Of course, he's not enough of a pussy to actually say that, you know, like a normal person. Instead, he talks to her until she gives up and either pays attention to him or kicks him out.

At least half the time, it's the latter.

One morning, just a few weeks before they're set to go back to school, he walks in when she's working on arpeggios (and yeah, he knows what those are, thank you very much). This time, she actually called him and told him to come over. So he's a little pissed that she holds up both hands and tells him she'll be just 10 more minutes. He sighs and flops down on the sofa and tries not to be really annoyed as she works up to like, ear bursting high tones.

10 minutes turns into 20. 20 turns into 35.

He gets up to leave.

"What are you doing?" she asks. He glares at her.

"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" She puts her hand on her hip. "I'm leaving."

"I'm almost done. Just wait a few minutes," she says. He rolls his eyes. "Noah, you know how important it is for me to maintain, if not better, my technique and training. Classes start in just a month, and I need to be..."

"Yeah, Berry, I get it. Classes start. I don't want to talk about that right now," he insists. She looks at him like she doesn't understand, and he thinks that for such a smart girl, she can be pretty fucking dumb sometimes. "You think I wanna talk about you leaving again? No thanks."

"Noah."

"I'm going."

"Don't just leave," she says, walking towards him. He's already turning the doorknob. "Would you just listen to me? Gosh, I swear it's like I'm dealing with a child sometimes."

(Okay, so she can admit that she probably shouldn't have said that.)

He looks at her, and she feels about two inches tall, and also like she knows she's just hurt him far more than he deserves.

As he pulls the door open, he tries to think of something, anything, that might hurt her. (What? He's changed, but he hasn't changed _that_ much. And she just made him feel like a complete piece of shit, so he figures it's allowed.) So he says the first thing that comes to mind.

"I hate it when you wear your hair like that." He points to her head (it's all pulled back into this severe bun thing like she wears when she's dancing) and she gasps like he's just slapped her across the face.

Mission accomplished.

He steps outside and she follows him, stopping at the threshold of the house while he walks towards his truck.

"Well, I think your mohawk is ridiculously adolescent!" she shouts at him angrily, her knuckles gripping the door so hard she thinks the skin might break.

"Bitch!" he yells back bitingly.

The door slams and he thinks his heart breaks.

He stomps into his house and slams the door, then throws his keys onto the hall table and seriously thinks about punching the wall, but his mom steps out from the kitchen, so he thinks twice.

She _Oh, Noah_'s him, which she's always done when she's seen him upset, and looks at him all soft like she can't bear to see him in any kind of pain. Call him a mama's boy, but he loves this shit. His mom is awesome, when she's not talking garbage about naming his kids (Meir and Elijah? No thanks, crazy woman) or when he might be ready to marry Rachel (_"Such a nice Jewish girl, Noah."_)

At this point, he's thinking he's never going to marry that insane chick.

Like, _ever_.

His mom gets him cookies and milk, like he's a four year old (but whatever, because you're never too old for Fudgee-o's and milk) and insists that he tell her everything, and she knows right away that it's all about Rachel.

She hits the nail on the head (he doesn't let her know) when she says that he's only upset because he loves Rachel so much. The way she says it, it's like she's already got the wedding invitations drawn up or something, and so he says, "fuck, mom," like it's crazy that he'd ever even be thinking about marriage in the first place. He doesn't even care when she smacks him upside the head, because he probably deserves it anyway.

(He _has_ thought about marriage, once or twice. Once when he was forced to watch Funny Girl and Fanny or whatever was going on and on about being a _Sadie_. Another when Rachel was standing in her bathroom, blow drying her hair with nothing but a towel on while he laid in her bed and watched, and he had the feeling that he could watch her do that every single day. And yeah, after that he wondered what the fuck he was doing and who he was turning into. But then Rachel asked him what he was staring at and he just answered,_ "you,"_ and the smile she gave him made it all kind of worth it.)

His mom tells him that all any woman ever wants is a little proof that the man she loves really loves her back.

Well, fuck. He's pretty sure he could have figured that out on his own. It might have taken him a little longer, though, and who knows? By now she might be shaving her head or something, since she's probably so offended about him bitching about her hair style.

He slaps his hand on his leg, because he's just given himself the best idea _ever_, and he kisses his mom's cheek quickly (she says, "Oh!" because he hasn't done it in years) before he runs upstairs.

Rachel has to know that he loves her. He's pretty much told her every day all summer (shut up; he likes the little smile she gives when he says the words) so she shouldn't have any doubt. But if she needs some kind of other reminder, or maybe an apology, too, he'll give it to her.

When he walks downstairs, his mom just laughs at him, and he's smirking as he shrugs his shoulder, grabs his keys, and says he'll be back in a while.

Rachel's front door is locked when he gets there, and he can't say he really blames her for wanting to keep him from just walking in (and he's always giving her shit for leaving the door unlocked when she's home alone anyway). So he knocks for the first time in what feels like forever, and he hears her stomping towards the door, like she's still pissed and she knows it's him.

She pulls the door open with a sigh, and he tries really, really hard not to stare at her. Her hair is down now, and all curled at the ends from being wound so tightly before. It's cascading around her shoulders, and she's changed into a light blue summer dress and that little 'XO' necklace she's had for years (her dads gave it to her on her 13th birthday, she once told him). She looks so, so beautiful, and he's really, really glad he decided to come back at this exact second, because who knows what she'd look like even five minutes from now?

(And yeah, this is how he thinks about her when he thinks about her. Like every single second he sees her is different from the last. Fuck, he love this girl.)

And she's looking at him all wide eyed, with her jaw slack, and he can tell she's trying not to smile. He shrugs and grins at her.

"You shaved your head," she says. He runs a hand over the place where his sweet-ass 'hawk used to be. "You shaved your head!?"

"You took out that stupid bun thing," he retorts. (He'll admit it. He's not above school-ground tactics.)

She tilts her head and smiles really sweetly. "You shaved your head," she says dreamily.

He laughs softly and rolls his eyes. "You gonna say anything else? Or maybe invite me in?" he asks.

She steps forward and kisses him, glancing to his head and running her hands over his hair. "You don't need an invitation anymore, Noah."

He kisses her again, steps inside, and she slips her hand into his. He apologizes, and she apologizes, and she wipes the strawberry lip gloss from his lips. She tells him she loves him, that she's scared to go back to New York, and he spends the rest of the afternoon talking to her about how amazing she's going to be. She's not fishing for compliments or anything, she's just anxious about being away from him. He almost thinks it's cute, the way she's all worried about furnishing the apartment she and her dads have found for her in Murray Hill.

She shyly tells him that she might have the place for a few years and she wants it to feel like both of them, and he smiles and kisses her, because she's basically asking him to move to New York, and fucking _finally_, because he's been waiting for her to tell him that she wants him to stick around for a while.

All he asks is that the bed is comfortable. She swats his chest and laughs as her cheeks turn pink, and like always, he wonders how it's even possible that she can't take his innuendos, even now when they've been together for so long.

"It's the element of surprise, Noah," she says, her head laying on his shoulder as they sit on her sofa. "And it's really a very good thing."

It takes him a while to figure out exactly what that means, but he finally gets it.

He's not boring. He's an idiot, sometimes, and the fights make them both crazy, but the make ups are always worth it, and they'll _always_ make up, because they love each other so goddamn much that it's hard to breathe when things are less than perfect between them. And yeah, maybe that makes him a sucker, but he doesn't fucking care, because if you loved a girl like Rachel Berry, you'd probably think the same thing too.

She tells him that she loves him, and he whispers that he knows and he loves her too. She admits that she doesn't really want to leave him again, and he pulls her closer and kisses her harder and tells her that he's glad she feels the same way he does. He doesn't want her to go, and he's not afraid to say it this time. She reminds him that the summer isn't over yet, and the tone of her voice lets him know that she's got big plans for him for the day and for the rest of the summer. (Make up sex first, of course. He's also got Indians tickets and plans to totally slushie her one night before she leaves, and he figures that's okay because he's more than willing to help clean her off now.)

She can't stop running her hand over the stubble on his head when she's kissing him, and it makes him smile against her lips as he toys with her own hair. It's the first time since he was 14 that he doesn't have a mohawk, and he thinks he might like it. Actually, he thinks she likes it, and just maybe that's more important right now.

(The next time he sits and watches while she takes her ballet lesson, her hair is in a loose bun with pieces falling around her face. Shaving his head was _so worth it_.)

* * *

"Noah!" she calls when she walks through the door. He doesn't answer. "Noah?"

She doesn't know where he'd be if he's not in the living room or kitchen, but she sees his keys, wallet and phone sitting on the coffee table, so she doesn't get too worried. She steps into the kitchen, humming the last song she heard, and pours herself a glass of water.

Which she almost drops when an arm snakes around her waist and someone's breath hits her neck.

He can feel her heart beating faster, the little rush of adrenaline she gets when he startles her, and he smirks as he kisses the side of her neck. His hand has slipped beneath her shirt to rest on her flat stomach, and she sets her glass on the counter.

Turning around to face him, she does her best to scowl, and says, "I hate you," and she doesn't mean it at all.

You'd think after all this time, she'd be used to him scaring her every chance he gets. He thinks it's especially funny, since their apartment isn't very big at all, and yet he can still sneak up behind her, at least once a week, and scare the shit out of her.

The kitchen is dark, but he can still see the little sparkle in her eye that she always gets after performing. "Good show?" he asks.

"Standing ovation," she says with a perfect mix of pride and modesty.

"That's my girl," he says as he leans in to kiss her.

He moved to New York after his junior year at OSU. His program offered off-campus study and an internship, and New York was the only place he would even consider going. Rachel literally squealed into the phone when he told her he was approved to work with a minor-league hockey team as assistant trainer, and he told her to make some room for him. He never actually asked if he could move in with her.

There wasn't really any question about it, was there? She had a ring on her left hand, so he figured it was okay for him to pick up and move; that she might not mind if he lived with her.

That was three years ago.

Now she's the lead in an off-Broadway show, and he's the head trainer for an arena football team, and it might seem like everything's happened really easily for them, but there was a time when it was all fighting and worry over how they'd pay their rent. They barely saw each other, because he had a job he worked every day after his internship, and she worked at Starbucks. (And yeah, he made fun of her for that for sure, but assured her that he still loved her anyway). They saw each other a couple hours a day, and even then, they were both studying or trying to sleep. It wasn't easy. Not at all.

But it was all worth it when he got the call about his job (Rachel actually cried and hugged him so tightly that he thought she was going to hurt him). He was there for her so she could cry on his shoulder after every audition for every part she didn't get, and he lifted her up and spun her around when she finally landed a role in a tiny little play. It paid practically nothing, and she had five lines and sang harmonies in two songs, and he knew she hated every second, but she did it with a smile, because it was what she had to do to make it. That lead to more roles, bigger roles, and eventually this lead, her name in lights on the marquis outside the theater.

Now she's getting rave reviews and auditioning for Broadway shows and just waiting for that next break, and Noah stands by her through all of it. She goes to all the games she can, the ones on Mondays, which are her days off, and watches him as he works and cheers on 'his' players.

"Mom called today," he tells her as he pulls away and takes a seat at the kitchen table. Rachel refills her glass and sits across from him, draping her legs over his lap. He massages her calves, always a little sore after a performance. (See? There are perks to living with an athletic trainer.) "She reminded me that my cousin is pregnant."

Rachel laughs and shakes her head. "Yes, Noah. Your cousin has been pregnant for eight months. Your mother is a lot of things, but I'm afraid subtle isn't one of them."

He shrugs his shoulder and smiles at her, and she can feel the metal of his wedding band as he moves his hand over her tired muscles. She sighs and runs her hand through her hair, then lets out a little noise when he kneads at her calf.

"Too hard?" he asks.

Her eyes are closed and she shakes her head, and he _cannot_ stop staring at her. "Just right."

It's not the first time, or the second time, or probably even the fiftieth time they've sat in their darkened little kitchen like this, and if you would have asked him at 16 if at 25 happily married (to_ Rachel Berry_) have a bachelors degree and a steady job he loves, he probably would have looked at you like you were nuts, because there was no way he'd ever be good enough to accomplish all that.

But then there was Rachel, all along the way, reminding him that he never gave himself the credit he deserved. Most of the time, she believed in him enough for the both of them.

And Rachel, as a teenager, never thought she'd be married to Noah Puckerman, of all people. He's changed, and he's different (_perfect_) and she loves him so much that sometimes it makes her question herself. He's still crass and brash and he still makes her crazy sometimes with the way he can say entirely the wrong thing at precisely the wrong time.

(_"Can't we just get married at City Hall?" "I don't fucking care what colour you paint the living room." "Do you really need to practice _after_ your practices?" "What do you mean it's our first anniversary?"_ And he was lucky that last one was a joke, though he let her think for the entire day that he was serious, just so he could surprise her with the most perfect dinner ever.)

He makes her crazy, and she probably rolls her eyes at him a hundred times a day. He knows she does things just to get under his skin sometimes, and they both know that she hates it when _he_ calls _her_ Puck, now (what? it's her last name, too) but he still does it every once in a while, because, well, she looks hot when she's mad.

But she admitted a long time ago that he's exactly what she needs.

And was there ever really anybody else?

_**-Fin-**_


End file.
